Out of the Dark and the Mist
by Amousca
Summary: When Chama's fighting on your side, you're not too sure you're glad. When Valen's fighting on your side, you know you better not stand in front of him in a battle. But prophecy tends to favour entertaining conflicts and collaborations.
1. Prologue

_Hello everyone… It's been a while since I wrote new stuff, but this story and characters just kept begging me, so I finally gave in. (I have to sleep eventually, after all.) As I see it, this happens after "A Spymaster's Musings", although it's really not necessary at all to read it before this one._

_As always, I hope for reviews :)_

_We have a saying here in Québec: tie your hat down with wire… This is going to be a long and angsty story._

_**Out of the dark and the mist**_

Prologue. A reckless summoner and an out-of-control leader

"Very good!", Drogan exclaimed as the summoning circle appeared on the ground, regular, glowing, and flawless. "You're learning quickly, girl." He beamed proudly at his student.

Chamaedaphne paused thoughtfully. "I'm not learning, master Drogan, I'm just using skills I haven't used in some time."

The old dwarf looked at his pupil pointedly. "You're not nearly experienced enough to have summoned demons before."

The elf slowly lifted her head to stare at him. The coldness and detachment in her eyes chilled Drogan. He knew that stare. It was the dead eyes of the magic users who had almost sold their soul to the craft; those who became liches; those who sealed deals with devils and demons.

"No, I am not, I see this now. But not all masters are as you are. Many are willing to sacrifice a few apprentices if there is a possibility of gain. I was taught how to summon devils and demons before now."

She blinked rapidly, her eyes shining as if a few tears had suddenly found their way in their unrelenting coldness.

"I never failed, as you can surely deduce from my survival. I… wore a circlet of intellect and a ring of clear thought at the time. That is how I managed it then. I don't need all that gear anymore."

Drogan looked carefully at Chamaedaphne Indiwasi, his newest pupil. She had been there for a few weeks only. When she had reached him, she had been tired from the long road from Neverwinter, but the wise dwarf knew that something else had seeped exhaustion deep into her bones. She had the looks of a veteran coming back from years of war in distant lands when she got down from her room the first morning. He had thought that she looked like she was used to waking at a precise hour and did not remember what sleeping late meant.

In the following few weeks, he had explored her skills, both as a thief and as a mage, and it had quickly become obvious that there was not much left he could show her that she did not already know.

So he was left wondering why his old friend Aarin Gend had seen fit to send her here to "learn" from him as a master.

Knowing what awful twist of the mind the combination of the circlet of intellect and ring of clear thought forced, and witnessing the exhaustion and uncertainty of Chamaedaphne in the first few days, and now hearing that she had already summoned demons and devils, Drogan understood suddenly what he yet had to teach her.

Aarin Gend was often more clever than he allowed people to guess.

"Now, girl, we need to have a talk."

"Master Drogan, I already _know_ that you're not supposed to wear a ring over a circlet, and that the process of summoning is not to be tried by the novice, but…"

"No, girl, that is not what I mean." She flushed angrily each time he called her "girl". He wondered how much more she would take it before she exploded. "I must tell you that I will not let you risk yourself in this way while you are my pupil. You are therefore forbidden to wear a circlet or a ring for the duration of your stay here. Is it clear?"

She shrugged. "Very well."

"You will also make a list of all the spells you have cast in your life. All of them. I must know to what lengths of recklessness you can go."

"Very well."

"Lastly, girl, I would like to know how you came to convince yourself to try something as foolishly dangerous as summoning a devil."

The frail elf before him paled. Even as her body gave sign of weakness, her features froze into a grim expression and her eyes hardened, becoming black and unyielding as stone.

"It's classical enough. I wanted power," she answered, her voice guarded.

"Yes, I could guess that. But I want to know _why_."

"That's my own business. What does that have to do with my training here anyway?" She was becoming defensive, and he could see that she was withdrawing from him. Soon she would shut the door and never let him in again.

"It has to do that, in the short time you've been here, I've come to care for you, child. I wish to know what has pushed you into ambition, that I might recognize it and warn you if it starts happening again."

Chamaedaphne blinked a few times, frozen in indecision. It was obvious she had no idea whatsoever as to how to react to that unexpected show of affection. Finally, a still guarded, but warmer, expression made its way back in her eyes.

"I thank you for your concern, but my past is my own. I will not discuss it with anyone – not even you. I will tell you, however, that you need not fear for me. What made me crave for power will not happen to me again here."

Drogan took a step forward and patted her shoulder in a fatherly manner. "Fine, I am content with that answer for now, but know that if you wish to talk… I am here. Now, since you obviously know what you're doing, there might be a way to skip ahead a bit."

There was a long silence on Chamaedaphne's part as Drogan prepared reagents and explained what the exact phrasing for the summoning ritual was when he was interrupted by her small hand landing on his arm, halting him.

"Master Drogan… thank you. It… has been a long time since someone showed me kindness so selflessly. As for the magic… for once I would prefer not to burn any steps. It is your guidance much more than your lessons that I need."

It was obviously a shameful admission for her, so Drogan nodded and smiled kindly.

"Ah, very well then. In that case, you will trace fifty others of those summoning circles, and prepare the spell components yourself. As you will soon find out, you will miss many reagents, so you will have to search for them around the shops in town or in the nearby wood." A very sour expression made its way on the elf's face, but she kept quiet, knowing full well that she had brought this down upon herself. "Now, I will leave you to begin. Record any failings for later discussion with me. I think I will go see how Mischa is doing with her goblin roommate. Notify me when you will be done."

Chamaedaphne Indiwasi, the Hero of Neverwinter, sighed and bowed. "Very well, master Drogan."

Master Drogan sighed to himself as he went up the stairs leading out of his lab and up to the kitchen. She truly was determined to follow his guidance if she was ready to submit to such a tedious and useless exercise. It also showed a bit more of wisdom than his other pupils that she was ready to accept such unpleasantness as a price to pay to learn. And he admitted quietly to himself that the depth of darkness in her eyes was not hinting only at kindness. Taking into account her considerable power, he was grateful that she was willing to accept that he called her "girl", that he forbid her to wear enhancing items, and that he forced her to do chores, because he was not sure he could survive the onslaught of her full powers.

Aarin Gend was much cleverer than he allowed people to see.

ooooo

Valen Shadowbreath wrestled with the demon within for a few seconds.

_He's a fool! An incompetent fool! You could kill him without breaking a sweat and he_ dares _to order you around!_, the demon half of him screamed.

Valen took a few careful breaths. _The general Warizmi is not a fool. He knows we're not ready, but there's no escaping this first engagement with the Valsharess. He's trying to make the best out of a bad situation._

The demon snorted. _Of course, what commendable excuse to send you in the most dangerous spot and be free of the most dangerous rival._

_Now that's enough,_ Valen retorted. _I'm not his rival. I serve the Seer just as he does. We're not competing against each other. We're fighting for the same cause._

And with these final words that forced the demon to submission, still grumbling about receiving orders from a weakling, Valen turned his attention fully back to the general. Warizmi was a competent strategist, but was not a warrior capable of holding his ground against a weapon master of Valen's experience. He was very aware of it as he had watched the big tiefling's eyes simmer in yellow tones, with patches of blue and red swirling and pushing each other. The old drow's silver eyes were clouded with wariness and he was holding his balance on his feet, ready to jump back should Valen do a hostile move.

"I see the need for my presence to hold the center," the tiefling finally agreed, his eyes reverting to their cyan blue, "but might I advise against sending Imloth there also? There will be a need for a commander should either of us fall, and the center appears a dangerous place where to concentrate our most needed forces."

"Agreed," the general declared, before turning back to Imloth who had been observing the exchange in silence. Besides Imloth, Nathyrra and four other captains stood. Warizmi distributed his orders, pointing to places on a map and explaining what his plan was and what each captain needed to do.

Valen observed in silence, knowing the plan was sound, but had no chance of success. The army was not drilled in discipline, the ranks were not closed in emotionless habit, the soldiers were not trained enough. He was aware that a battle between drow would have nothing to do with what he was used to in the Blood Wars. There would be assassins using the cover of shadows, and they would face destructive magic tearing their ranks apart. There would be no lash from a fiendish slave master twice the size of any other demon, there would be no devils sneering with many rows of teeth, there would be no devil blood spilled to make the drums of the Blood War rise loud, harsh, violent and irrepressible in his veins.

Once the meeting was over, he went to take his place as captain of the strongest and toughest of the Seer's swordsmen, and told them curtly that they would hold the center. Those were men he had trained himself, and they were among the best in this army. They warmed up briefly, and fell into ranks behind him.

The army moved, slowly but with purpose, to take their positions in the large desolate plain that stretched between Lith My'athar and the Valsharess's stronghold. Facing them was the army of the drow queen, much bigger, with its duergar and drow allies, its drider regimens, its scores of assassins already melting into the shadows and its ranks of arcane users.

Valen waited as the generals and the heralds of both armies met. He knew Nathyrra was there with Warizmi, but he could not see her, and he had no doubt that the enemy army had an assassin there of their own, ready to strike if anything untoward happened. There was a cold emptiness inside of him knowing that he might very well die there this day. He had had countless occasions where he could have died in the past. Sometimes he had wished to die, but always he had been kept alive by some twist of circumstances. Now his destiny had taken a twist; he was out of the Abyss and more or less free of the demon blood. He could rule his own life as he wished it.

He suddenly wondered what life had in store for him, because it suddenly appeared absurd that he had escaped so much and was still alive if only to die in a few seconds.

This was a most disturbing thought to have as he was trying to prepare for a deadly battle. He shut the thought out of his head and listened to the footsteps of the army starting to come towards them on the other side of the plain, the universal sound of coming battle. Valen's blood picked up the rhythm and the drums of the Blood Wars started to sing in his veins.

_I can make you stronger_, the demon whispered.

_I am strong,_ Valen retorted with gritted teeth, his eyes turning yellow.

_I can make the blood of battle sweet_.

The tiefling's eyes turned red.

"Stay behind me. Whatever happens, stay behind me," he ordered his troops.

"Yes, sir!"

The drums were beating louder now, drowning any sound in his ears, the pounding of his heart, the approaching footsteps, the orders from the captains, the whistling arrows and roaring magic. Dust was rising in the air to cast a cloud over the hundreds of fighters advancing to meet another army.

And battle was upon them.

"Into the flames we leap!", Valen screamed. He let out a laugh as he swung from left to right, his heavy flail wreaking havoc amongst his enemies.

So sweet was the battle, so welcoming the incoherent rage that pushed his body always harder in the fight to the death. He had come to the Seer that long ago. He was not a snarling beast anymore, but the demon could easily take control again with just a short lapse in Valen's vigilance.

And that day on the battlefield, it happened. The demon resurfaced, with all the reckless joy of a freed monster, to savour the destruction and chaos he sowed with each effortless hit.

The demon laughed, his eyes a blazing red, as his enemies were cowering in fear before him, hesitant to come closer, as he was tearing a hole in the center of their ranks. But the enemy leaders saw it and sent reinforcements, and Valen was hard pressed, his rage increasing tenfold with each step he was forced to take back.

Someone tugged at his arm and he swung around madly, knocking this one on the side of the head with the handle of his flail, with all his enraged strength. Blood spilled from the cut black skin of a young drow soldier, white hair spraying in the air as the helmet flew away.

Valen snapped back into himself, the demon still laughing cruelly deep down inside of him, and he caught the soldier before he hit the ground. One of his own soldiers. He was hit by two daggers and four swords in his side and back as he turned to protect the man he had knocked out, and he dragged him behind the lines, leaving his soldiers to hold the center by themselves, against enemies enraged by the previous slaughter.

He dropped the man on the ground and reanimated him with a rough touch on the quickly expanding bruise on his cheek. The soldier stirred and groaned, trying to turn to his side to get up; any drow knew better than stay helpless for long.

"Drink this." Valen shoved a potion in the man's hands and stood up again.

He was standing behind the lines on a gentle slope, and he was high enough above it to survey the battle. The left had fallen, squished back onto the center by relentless duergar fighters. The right was held fiercely by Imloth, assisted by his competent archers, but they were losing great numbers. As he watched, seeing the chaos and destruction calling to the demon within, Valen felt a great sadness suddenly at all the deaths that had been dealt that day. And even as he watched, looking at their forces losing the best of their soldiers holding the center, Warzimi fell, an assassin's dagger slicing through his throat.

The drums of the Blood Wars fell silent suddenly. Exhaustion settled in Valen's limbs. He knew when to recognize a hopeless cause. He took up his horn and blew. Almost immediately Imloth's horn answered him, and the army turned around in defeat, starting to run in a disorganized flight. Many were cut down as they ran.

Valen ran with them, holding them together with lashing words or intimidating glares to keep the pace up despite the wounded and the dying. No one questioned his authority as the new leader, and he was seen as a natural follower for Warzimi.

It took days to reach the haven of Lith My'athar again. The broken army entered silently by the gates, without cheers from the people and without cries of new widows. That was not the way of the drow.

Valen guided the army in the city, and was the last one to come in, after the last of his wounded soldiers. The Seer had let all the wounded walk past her without a look, which was most unusual and was duly noted. Valen suddenly paused when he saw her standing there and waiting for him. A hush fell on everyone.

"I have seen you," she said.

Valen stopped, suddenly ashamed of his actions, stealing a glance at the soldier who had been carefully avoiding him for all the duration of the flight. He had avoided looking his way too, to keep the shame away, but the Seer had a way to make him look at himself and see there what he did not like to see.

"I am surrounded by the wounded and the dying," the drow lady murmured sadly, "yet it is you who is in the most dire danger. You must reach a peace with yourself, otherwise you will lose yourself."

And to his surprise, Valen felt a quiet settle in his heart. He was still alive and he was master of himself. It did seem like life had something in store for him yet after all. "I know, Seer. I will not lose myself."

The Seer nodded, and then turned away calmly. But then she finally saw all the wounded requiring her healing skills, and frantically started to distribute her spells, beginning with the worst wounded. Her two acolytes assisted her.

Valen looked at the army. It was almost sure that they would all die in their next engagement with the Valsharess. Was this his destiny then? Coming out of the Abyss, getting out of the planes to the Prime, all to die fighting for the Seer for a just cause after he came at peace with the demon within?

The demon half furiously rebelled and raged. _I am_ not _at peace!_

_Neither am I. But you will never master me again like this. I promise this to you. I promise it to her. And I promise it to myself._

The demon screamed and kicked, but Valen did not listen. He could shut a mental door on the demon. He could now. He smiled grimly. It was a few months at most before the Valsharess struck one final time. Surely he could manage to hold off the demon that long and die with his humanity and dignity.


	2. Meeting and Clashing

_Well, it's been a while… been busy with usual end-of-term again. Now I'm back and I promise the updates will be coming about once a week from now on._

Chapter I. Meeting and clashing

Valen Shadowbreath listened distractedly to Imloth's report on the Valsharess's army movements and of their recruits' progress. He was not really paying attention, because he already knew much of what the drow commander had to say. The number of swordmasters was dangerously low. The number of assassins was excessive, so a few should be trained to fill the ranks of the sword fighters. The archers were progressing nicely, being trained by House Mae'viir's sergeant. Considering the grim circumstances, the report was encouraging.

The tiefling snapped sharply to attention, however, when suddenly he heard the otherworldly detonation of a magic of great magnitude right under his nose. He snarled, thinking he should have known better than suppose the Seer's magic could completely shield them, even in their stronghold of Lith My'athar. He could not recognize exactly what was happening, but he unhooked his flail from his belt and crouched into his fully offensive battle stance.

Then he saw that it was something like a teleport or a dimension door. The exact spell was irrelevant; what mattered was that a threat would soon materialize right in front of him. A surface elf tumbled through the portal.

She stepped back hastily, surveying the room with quick and competent eyes. Valen saw her swift through the anonymous guards quickly, then focus a brief moment on the Seer, and then shift her gaze towards him.

He was shocked when she looked at him – her black eyes stopped and bore through him. Her posture changed completely, from one of defensive readiness to one of cold and reluctant acceptance. She did not bring her hands up to the deadly-looking bow on her shoulder, and did not reach to what was obviously a belt of spell components around her waist. She stood there proudly, defiantly, staring at him with cold eyes that stated that she knew she could not overcome him, and she was awaiting death calmly, unyielding.

The human half of him reeled from the inner strength that transpired through this simple stare. The demon had no such scruples, however, and he stepped forward, ready to swing his flail – the Seer would not come to harm while he was there. He knew his eyes were turning red, and it felt strange to summon the demon at will and still be in control. He used his demon half to push ruthlessly forward towards the defenceless female elf who had just appeared – his enemy. Not in every battle did he need to call to the demon within.

She was stronger than she gave herself credit for.

But on this thought sending the man reeling far back behind the demon's rage, Valen was halted in his advance.

"Wait a moment," the Seer ordered imperiously in a raised voice. The guards stopped as one, but Valen knew that this order was meant for him, not for the other guards.

He would not have needed the order, however, because at that very moment, he noticed Nathyrra now standing behind the stranger, with a kobold, of all creatures of the Prime. Valen realized at once that the surface elf was this woman, Chamaedaphne Indiwasi of whose arrival the Seer had had visions. He looked the elf over a second time; she did not look impressive to him. She was a wood elf, with chocolate brown hair and black eyes, and was as short and petite as the drow were. Her equipment was visibly enchanted, but he thought to himself with a snort that she was probably weak without it. She carried a short bow on her shoulder and a long sword was belted at her hip, glowing a wicked red. Still, there were pouches for spell components around her belt, and a full array of scrolls and wands tucked in her sash or in a strap that ran across her chest for that purpose. He could not expect a spellcaster to look physically impressive, he guessed, and he knew that the Seer and Nathyrra, despite a benign appearance, were of strong minds capable of shaping magic in the form of impressive destruction. And, since Chamaedaphne had made her way through Halaster's dungeon, she obviously had a few skills that might not be readily apparent.

He stood silently at a respectful distance while the Seer stepped forward.

"Do you not recognize one of our own?" the lady asked around in her soothing voice, obviously trying to calm the guards and ensure the stranger's safety. "Nathyrra, you have returned."

The assassin flashed one of the rare joyful smiles Valen had ever seen her give. "Mother Seer, it is good to see you once more."

Indeed, she had been gone for over two months, and Valen had a good idea of the dangers she had had to avoid while travelling alone the length of the Underdark and the lower levels of Undermountain.

"And you," the Seer answered with a smile. "But I see you have returned with another; someone very important, indeed."

At those words, the surface elf took a small step back and blinked a few times, as though she could hardly believe that she was the topic of the conversation.

"You are most welcome here, rivvil," the Seer addressed her now. "I am the Seer. I have awaited your arrival with great anticipation. Please, come, do not be alarmed."

The elf exploded into humourless laughter. "Don't be alarmed? Forgive me if I find it somewhat difficult with a geas hooked into my soul."

"A geas?"

"I believe I can answer that, Mother Seer," Nathyrra chimed in, and explained how she had helped Chamaedaphne and her companions battle the Valsharess' drow and free Halaster. Unsurprisingly, the mad mage had been ungrateful and had thanked Chamaedaphne for rescuing him by stating she had ruined his plan to get rid of the Valsharess and by forcing her by way of geas to eliminate the drow queen of the Underdark.

Valen felt even less sympathy than before towards Halaster, and he was unsure if their prophetical saviour being under a geas was a good thing. It did seem to offer superficial insurance that she would put her earnest efforts into their cause, but Valen knew it was also likely to embitter her to them for being the cause of her troubles. Having been a slave himself, he could easily imagine what state of mind Chamaedaphne was in at the moment; he felt marginal sympathy for her.

After that bit of explanation, Nathyrra explained to the newcomer who was the Valsharess and what kind of threat she posed, and the Seer repeated her faith in her goddess with an absolute trust that worried Valen quite a lot.

"There is only one thing that I can do," the Seer said to the stranger. Her voice carried the characteristic tone of deference and trust without question that she used when speaking of Eilistraee. "I must put my faith in the goddess… and that means putting our faith in you. Our fate lies in your hands."

He stepped in. A tiefling with demon blood, even if mostly human, would never agree easily with blind faith. That was a behaviour fit for devils. Not demons.

"Are you sure, Seer?" He turned his back on the stranger, not caring for her presence. "What do we really know about this… this woman? She could be the death of us all!"

He stopped short, with an angry twitch of the tail, when the Seer lifted a delicate hand in his direction to stop him.

"Our lives are irrelevant, good Valen. The Valsharess must be stopped at all costs, and Chamaedaphne is the key to stopping her."

"You know I don't believe in your ways, Seer. I won't throw away my life by blindly following anyone, and I don't think anyone here should, either."

The stranger's expression became thoughtful. "That's alright, actually. I don't know exactly what I should do to stop the Valsharess, but I assure you that no one will be forced to follow me _blindly_. Reports, discussions on battle plans, whatever you wish, I'll submit to it. I'll even ask for advice. If that will satisfy you, sir…?"

Valen scowled furiously at the insolent elf smiling roguishly at him, but against his better judgement he found himself repressing an amused smile. Well, she certainly looked frail, but you could not accuse her of lacking courage and audacity. "Valen Shadowbreath," he introduced himself.

"Pleased to meet you," she answered with a flourished curtsy that managed to mix elegant grace and mockery. "Since you already know my name, I will spare you the exercise in pronunciation. You can call me Chama as a shortcut. It's easier to pronounce for those not used to the tongue of the elves."

Then she turned back to the Seer with a disregard for his presence as great as his had been. Really, she did not lack cheek. "I thank you for your welcome. It is the kindest I could expect given the circumstances. I would, however, appreciate a moment to myself. I need a healing kit's magic, but I would rather not strip in so public a place to disinfect the wounds of my chest, if you don't mind."

"Just keep still a moment," the Seer ordered, and started an incantation.

The stranger did not move, and when the spell was over, she spoke in a slightly amused tone.

"I thank you for your healing capabilities, Seer. However… not very perceptive for a seer, are you? I would appreciate a moment to myself nevertheless. Much has happened to me in the last hour, and I would take a few moments to adjust to the hooks that have jabbed at my soul and how they affect my perception of magic."

The Seer actually smiled at this. "I merely wished to spare you any unnecessary discomfort. Quarters have already been prepared for you at my request. Mayonseth here," the Seer gestured and one of the guards stepped forward and bowed, "will show you to your room and perform any urgent errands you might have."

"Thank you, Seer," the stranger nodded, then bowed. "Could lodging be arranged for my friend Deekin?" She was looking at the kobold besides her, who squirmed in discomfort at all the sudden attention.

"Hm, Boss? Why can't Deekin be sleeping on your floor like during adventure?"

The elf smiled. "Because I'd like a bath, Deekin. Besides, you'll get a big room where you can put all those notes of yours in order… and where you can invite drow people to tell you of their lives in the Underdark. Don't you wish a room now?"

The kobold's eyes were literally shining with joy at the prospect of a _private_ place where to conduct interviews for his new book.

Both adventurers followed the guard to the back of the temple, where the highest ranking officers had personal quarters. Valen stared at the strange pair: a wood elf pushing a timid kobold in the back with a friendly hand. He glowered after Chamaedaphne, but kept silence, and after a while, seeing the Seer still required him to wait until the stranger was ready to speak to him instead of doing something useful of his time, he left after Imloth to help in the recruits' training. Nathyrra, for her part, discussed with a few of the spies that came to give her their report on intelligence; she had two months' worth of information to catch up with.


	3. Exploring Lith Myathar

Chapter II. Exploring Lith My'athar

Chama, once alone in her room, smiled to see that the Seer had indeed prepared a room very fit to her needs, since a gently steaming tub full of warm and perfumed water was waiting for her, as well as a set of clean clothes. Chama sat on the wooden chair at the desk, not wanting to dirty the bedcover with her filthy clothes. She sat, looking out the window at the darkness of the Underdark and, in an accustomed gesture, she drew Aarin's amulet from one of her pouches of spell components. She rubbed her thumb across the smooth moonstone, freeing the spell, and took comfort in the familiar pearly glow that bathed her room. She wondered if Aarin had any inkling how appropriate his gift to her had been, even if he had intended it as a gift from more than a friend, and things had turned out as they had.

She held the amulet a moment, drawing strength from the simple dispelling of darkness, and then heaved a sigh and went back to reality and everything she had to do before she could collapse on the bed for a much deserved full night of sleep.

She stripped of her weapons, spell components belt and wand straps and put it away neatly in a corner. Then, she stripped of her armour, the under-padding it carried and the cotton clothes she wore underneath. This, she just threw away in a pile, because it was so dirty it would need to be washed through and through.

She had spent the last three days in the bowels of Undermountain without a trip to Waterdeep's surface, and she reeked, along with her equipment. It was not only the lack of facilities that posed problem – a talented mage had quite a few ways to render the small inconveniences of life easier to cope with – but also the lack of privacy – she had been travelling with two men. Daelan Red Tiger was the image of gentlemanly behaviour, if one forgot his half-orc physique, and he would not have looked her way while she washed. Deekin neither would have peeked. Still, she was who she was, and she would not disrobe next to two males, even if they looked the other way.

After decades of adventuring, being so dirty had become some sort of habit, and she always had a thought for her father when she was about to wash away a particularly thick layer of grime off her – and her father had thought dwarves were filthy. Despite all the changes that she had undergone in her long life, she had always been amused by the prospect of what her father would think to see her at the worst of the inglorious moments of her adventures.

The need to wash a considerable amount of grime on repeated occasions also teaches a thing or two on how to maximise the use of water. It was easy enough finding two large bowls that she could use for her needs. She used the first one to take water from the bath and pour it over her hair, while she used the second one to hold the water that fell from her hair, accompanied with the blood, dust, soot and grease that it washed out. She rinsed her hair with water a few times, then foamed it thoroughly with the washing cream the drow used, wrinkling her nose at the heavy, flowery smell. Then she rinsed all of her hair again, the water coming out a doubtful shade of grey. The recipient was full of dirty water when she was done, so she could not wash her hair a second time in this way. She just stepped into the tub and allowed the hot water to soothe her newly healed wounds. She did not doze off, however, since it would have been a most dangerous thing to do in her state of weakness. She could easily faint in this hot water if she did not pay attention, and a drowned hero would not do much to defeat the Valsharess or free herself from a foul geas, would she.

So she scrubbed away the dirt under her nails, as short and mangled as a peasant's, washed the clogged blood from her older wounds, and soaped herself generously, to make sure the scent had gone away. After that, she got out of the tub, dried herself, and tried on those drow clothes that had been lent to her.

She did not know if they belonged to anyone, although it was doubtful since they did not appear worn out. They were cut in the same style as Nathyrra's, which meant comfortable and functional, if a bit snug to Chama's tastes. They were the right size, too, but they were made of a fabric she could not guess at. The texture was approaching linen, however. She brushed her sable hair, just to remove the tangles from it, then separated it in the middle and pushed it behind her ears. She had never been fond of elaborate hairstyle, and it had not changed when she set to adventuring and lost access to many commodities.

She rummaged through her pack until she found the small pouch in which she put the tools she needed to take care of her equipment. She cleaned her bow, checked the string and the shaft, and removed all offensive material from the quiver. She cleaned and polished her sword, trying not to listen to Enserric's rude comments about being rubbed by a woman's hands. When she turned her gaze on the armour, she sighed, chagrined, and decided to let this work to someone else.

She used what was left of cleaning power to her bath's water to wash grossly her underclothes. The water turned a dirty and smelly grey. She sighed and twisted the cloth to squeeze water out of it.

Looking at the sand clock that stood by the gigantic, smooth, soft and very tempting bed, Chama saw that it had taken her nearly two hours to get her equipment nearly clean, and that it was late evening. She rolled her armour into the leather padding that went underneath and strode out of her room. She gave an apologetic smile to the two boys in charge of the chamber service, looking back ruefully at the mess they now had to clean, then went back to the main portion of the temple, where the Seer still was, no doubt.

When she arrived, Deekin was nowhere to be seen, probably in his room sifting through his notes or something. Nathyrra was there, however, in deep conversation with a nervous-looking girl who cast suspicious glances around while she spoke to the assassin. Chama let them confer, since the matter seemed important. The tiefling, Valen, was nowhere to be seen. The Seer was also listening to a series of reports, so Chama went straight to one of the guards.

"Good evening," she greeted. The guard nodded nervously. "I would need someone to guide me around Lith My'athar. Since Nathyrra and the Seer seem busy and Valen is not here, I am left to ask you."

"I cannot leave the temple, honoured female."

"I understand that. Can you point me to someone who would show me around?"

Nathyrra, with the keen elven ears, had overheard. "Valen is currently with Imloth training the recruits; he's just a little down to your right once you get out of the temple. He'll show you around."

The guard bowed as Chama, smiling slyly, was turning to Nathyrra. "Are you sure he would not rather lose me in the direction of that poisoned river of yours?"

Nathyrra smiled at that. "He wouldn't do that. He might try to make you believe it to be sure you'll stay in line, but he wouldn't do that."

"Ah. How reassuring," Chama replied.

She passed the temple's doors, and easily found Valen and Imloth, making the recruits line themselves and repeat a series of moves with their swords. Chama made a face in spite of herself; she hated that precise exercise, and she was barely better than those recruits with her sword.

Valen turned to her; although Commander Imloth gave a nod to the head to politely acknowledge her presence, the tiefling gave no indication of respect.

"Nathyrra told me you could help me find my way around Lith My'athar," she said lightly.

The tiefling was eyeing her up and down again with those harsh eyes of his. There was like a thunderous fury held just barely in check behind the savagery of his cyan eyes and his set jaw. Chama observed him carefully and levelly. She knew that expression only too well: the half-convinced mask of someone trying to break free of a violent past despite a long habit of rage.

"The Seer believes you are our prophetical saviour; our only hope of defeating the Valsharess. I, however, do not believe in prophecies." She was not surprised or fazed by his coldness. She merely lifted an eyebrow, totally unimpressed, and obviously too confident in her abilities to be disturbed by his words. So he conceded grudgingly, "Still, you are obviously capable in your own right. And we need all the help we can get if we are to win this war. So I'm willing to take a chance."

_At least, he's not _totally_ against the very idea of my presence in the Seer's camp_, she thought wryly. Still, she felt it better to clarify a few things with him from the beginning. She knew how to deal with people in his state of mind, after all.

"I get the feeling that you don't like me very much," she stated calmly and without resentment.

She saw Imloth, behind Valen's back, stare at her with widened eyes, as though no one ever dared to talk back to Valen or something. Well, considering his size, height and obvious mastery of his gigantic flail, it was probably the case. But the tiefling answered softly, his rough but gentle voice a stark contrast with his icy eyes. "Untrue. I do not even know you, so I can hardly dislike you. But unlike the Seer, I'm not about to put all my faith in you until you've proven yourself against the Valsharess."

She nodded. "I can work with someone on those terms," she said. "Now that we know where we stand, I would like to get my armour to a smith before he closes for the night; the sooner it is repaired, the sooner I can do something against that Valsharess of yours."

Valen nodded curtly and gestured her ahead of him. While they crossed the small settlement that was Lith My'athar, Valen pointed and named the different buildings to her, with their importance and function.

"I should have kept my circlet," she observed absent-mindedly, "my memory feels doubly fuzzy."

"Doubly fuzzy? What do you mean?"

"It is that I usually wear a circlet of intellect – a helm that will make me more intelligent. Now that I don't wear it, I feel slow in comparison to what I usually am, and moreover I'm not yet adjusted to the lack of enhancement. So I'm less sharp than usual, even without my circlet. I've been using it for too long. It will likely take me a day or so to adjust to myself. I feel doubly fuzzy now trying to memorize the buildings and such."

Valen quirked a curious eyebrow. "If this circlet of yours is such a marvel, why do you take it off ?"

Her expression froze into an expressionless mask that chilled him, because it showed an unnerving detachment. For one part, it contrasted with the gentleness with which he had seen her act up until then, and for another part, it reminded him of a lich or some other undead; the expression was deader than any devil or demon he had ever met.

"I take it that you've never tried one," she surmised. "It will make your mind sharper, yes, but there's a price to pay. It _twists_ your mind in order to bend it to new pathways, to create new space for memorized words, and to take new short-cuts. It's a useful twist of the mind, but it can become dangerous if sustained for too long. I've needed it to match Halaster's traps in Undermountain, and I've been sleeping with it for nearly twenty days. The colours are starting to change and some things that I know don't exist start appearing on the periphery of my vision. That's when I know I'm really due for a break. I will not be turned a mad mage like Halaster by lack of precaution. I almost did once before, but I learn from my mistakes."

"A sound precaution then," Valen agreed. He understood that coldness now; he could imagine how the prospect of almost losing her mind by ambitious use of a dangerous magical object was disturbing her. He went on with naming the buildings for her.

Eventually they reached Lith My'athar's forge. Chama observed curiously the smith and his two apprentices. _Very big arms for elves_, she reflected. They were also covered in soot and sweat – even if the soot did not show so much on their dark skin, it matted in a dark grey over their white hair. As she watched, the one who was obviously the master smith brought his hammer up, uttering a word of power, and the hammer glowed as it was brought down on the long blade the drow was crafting.

The crafting of a magical weapon is not a work easily interrupted, so Chama and Valen waited as the smith hit the blade three more times. One of the apprentices was using the bellows to keep the embers red hot, and the other was holding himself at the master's disposal. The forge itself was not a big structure. There were two anvils, one mundane and the other very heavily enchanted, a single forge fire, and three buckets containing different liquids to quench the steel. Chama was not well versed into weapon crafting, so she was not sure what else than water was used. Besides the soot covering everything, the place was orderly enough.

Soon the smiths interrupted their work and the master wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. He nodded to Valen, but addressed the female directly.

"You're the surfacer the Seer's been waiting for, aren't you? I wondered how long until you wandered over my way. My name's Rizolvir, master craftsman and weapon smith extraordinaire. And you're Chamaedaphen Indiwasi, right?" Not even awaiting an answer, he went on, "Pleased to meet you. If there's anything you need, I'm here to help. Feel free to look over my inventory or, if you want, I can upgrade your weapon for you."

She let out a light laugh. "Well, my sword is enchanted enough as it is, and besides, I doubt he would take kindly to be held by male hands, no offence."

Rizolvir frowned, and then his expression lit up in understanding. "A sentient blade! Where in the Nine Hells did you find a sentient blade?"

"Nowhere so far and exotic as the Nine Hells," she answered laughing. "I found Enserric in Halaster's dungeon, in the care of a 'dead' skeleton king that was very eager to awake as soon as I stole it from his lap."

"Enserric? I'm told he's among the worst mouthed sentient blades to have ever existed – along with Liliarcor, that is."

"Liliarcor? I don't know that one. I can tell you, however, that Enserric is… well… not outright bad mouthed, but he definitively lacks class. If you will forgive me for cutting short our exchange, I still have a few things to do, and it's late already. I would require your services as a smith."

"I had surmised as much," the big-armed drow answered slyly. "What can I do for you, darthirii?"

"My armour has been needing mending for a tenday now. It's about time I find a competent smith to take care of it."

She unceremoniously unrolled her armour and the strangely shining metal, dirtied and tarnished, was exposed to Rizolvir's critical eye.

"I know, I should care for it a little better, but I already spent two hours today cleaning lots of other things, so I brought it to you as such."

"I see what you want me to do with the armour," Rizolvir said, surveying the damage with a reprobating eye. Truly, cleaning the blood once in a day was not luxury. This armour had been badly neglected, and it was a shame since it was highly enchanted. But wizards had always been wizards, and they had much to do in the way of studies each day that did not allow for much care of armour and weapons. "What of the leather padding?"

"It also needs cleaning and mending, I am afraid. If it's a hopeless case, could you start from scratch and make a new one?"

"That should not be a problem, I could use this one as a template. Anything else?"

"I'd also like to look your inventory, if you would be so kind."

Rizolvir proceeded to guide her to the nearby stand where his stock was displayed. She looked at everything with quick eyes, sifting through his goods expertly, discarding instantly things that were of no use to her and evaluating rapidly the quality of his work. The smith assessed for himself that she would strike hard bargains, but her obvious lore was a skill deserving of better prices anyway.

"Forgive me for not buying anything right away, I have to count my gold and set priorities. When do you think you'll be done with my armour?"

"Tomorrow around mid-day," the smith answered. "I could do faster if necessary."

"No, take your time, I have to stay here a day at least, to recuperate from Undermountain and get to know who I am working with a little better."

The smith shook her hand vividly. "A pleasure doing business with you, darthirii."

She nodded, and then turned around. Valen heard her gasp quietly.

"Who is this male?", she asked, looking at a drow across the square, in front of a stand, wearing the robes of a wizard. She eyed him quickly; he was tall enough for a drow, and wore black and yellow wizards' robes in the elaborate style of the Underdark. He also wore a small hat which she found rather comical and a threatening-looking ring on his right hand.

Valen found her use of "male" unpleasant, even if he was growing accustomed to it after a few years surrounded by drow. He had not thought surface elves did the same.

"This is Gulhrys, house Mae'viir's High Wizard," Valen told her.

"Does he hold merchandise?" Her inquiry seemed, in Valen's opinion, a little too eager and excited to account for the simple prospect of a bit more shopping.

"Not to everyone," Valen answered. "He certainly refused to sell anything to me for a long time because I was not a magic user."

A playful, wicked smile crossed Chama's face and she walked straight to the mage. The male had his usual dour expression on at first, but as she came closer, a smile matching Chama's made its way on his face.

"So, it seems I have found a willing challenger at last," the drow said.

"I'm always in for a challenge. I hope my performance will not disappoint you too much, I'm currently recuperating from a circlet of intellect."

The male's face fell. "You cheat," he stated.

"I am unaided at the moment," she countered quietly. "Do you wish to reveal your name to the challenger, or do you keep it in reserve in case of disappointment?"

"I will hold it back and see if a cheater can do anything by herself, without her magical help."

Chama nodded. "So, what is your challenge?"

The mage thought for a moment, then said something in a tongue Valen did not understand. The tiefling knew, however, that this tongue had something magical in it and he warily took a step back. He was relieved when he only saw a small flame escape from Gulhrys' forefinger. Chama shot something back, her finger flaming also, and they exchanged short sentences for a good ten minutes, Valen watching in boredom the flame which kept blinking on and off their fingers. Finally, there was a silence after the mage said one last thing and Valen saw the male's face light with the prospect of victory, and suddenly Chama exclaimed, "Seiche bachata merankali!"

The annoying flame reappeared at the tip of her finger. The male's face fell. There was a longer silence, and finally he said, "Koromo hikati bevine."

"Zarath isith sssris."

Again the silence stretched.

"I am bested," the mage observed at last. "What is this tongue you just used?"

"Ancient kobold dialect from the Spine of the World."

The mage smiled, amused, then bowed to Chama. "It has been long since I had such a challenging opponent. I thank you for this most satisfying match."

"It was my pleasure. Perhaps you could show me the basics of the mermaid's casting tongue? I am largely unfamiliar with it."

"If you will explain how you came intimate with this ancient kobold dialect over dinner," the mage answered, treading carefully now.

Valen quirked an eyebrow at the male drow, behind Chama's back. Males were rarely so bold, especially those who had reached a high status without being associated with any female. The mage had his head lowered while he awaited Chama's answer, humbly now. The surface elf was immobile, and Valen was unable to see her face and quite curious about her reaction.

"Will you first tell me your name, my challenging opponent?", Chama answered at last.

"My name is Gulhrys, High Wizard of House Mae'viir, at your service, my lady." The drow bowed low, ceremoniously.

"I am Chamaedaphne Indiwasi, only child of the House of the Sun. Very well, Gulhrys, I will explain to you how I came to know this ancient dialect over dinner, and you will show me the base of the mermaids' casting tongue."

The male lifted his head at last and Valen observed him closely. His face was carefully expressionless, as was the prudent attitude around female drow after being so bold. He bowed again.

"You honour me, female. When will you wish my presence?"

Chama laughed. "When you will call me by my name and stop bowing endlessly. If you can manage such by tomorrow night, we should be able to have a civil dinner."

The male smirked slowly, looking at Chama with a glitter in his eye that made Valen clench his fists and grit his teeth. Valen was used to be looked at like an object or a possible conquest by the drow matrons, and the lecherous but more respectful regard Chama was drawing now was making him strangely jealous. Valen shook the feeling and forcibly relaxed his hands. It was none of his business. It was a measure of the High Wizard's distraction that he did not notice the daggers Valen had been staring at him; adult drow males rarely missed that kind of mortal threat being directed at them.

"Very well, Chamaedaphne Indiwasi," Gulhrys concluded. "Where shall I find you, to escort you to my House's dining quarters?"

Chama hesitated. "I am not well versed in your culture. Can you search for me at the temple, or would it be inappropriate?"

"If the temple is currently your House, there is nothing inappropriate in this," the mage replied.

"To the temple then. Is there somewhere I can send a message for you in case I have need?"

"My House's guards will get it to me, Chamaedaphne Indiwasi, if you wish to send me a message."

She bowed to the mage.

"Now, I hope my performance earned me the privilege of looking at your inventory?"

"Of course, my lady. I have an amulet you might find interesting while learning the mermaid's tongue…"

Valen watched as the two wizards discussed things he did not understand, switching frequently between many tongues, half of which he did not know, despite many travels through the planes. At the end, Chama concluded, "I will likely come back to your stand tomorrow to buy more things, but I need to take a better look at what I carry in my pack. There are many interesting objects and books I found in Undermountain. Maybe you would be interested in a bit of further trade?"

"I would undoubtedly be, Chamaedaphne. Is there anything you would like right away?"

"Well, I will take this amulet of yours and this ring of clear thought… it is more powerful than mine."

"You use a ring over a circlet, Chamaedaphne?"

There was a warning in the drow's words, despite the carefully studied neutrality of his tone.

"I do. I know what you think, but as I am aware that I am cheating, I am aware of the danger."

"It is not my place to question a female. I wondered if you might gift it to a companion mage; I heard you arrived here with Nathyrra."

Chama gave the drow an indecipherable look, and Valen wondered what she thought of this subservient attitude.

"I might gift one of the rings to Nathyrra if she agrees to accompany me and does not need another ring more badly. But for now, how much do I owe you for the amulet and ring?"

"The ring will cost you 23 000 gold pieces, a fair price, you will agree. As for the amulet, I give it to you if you wear it tomorrow. The delicate design would suit your neck."

She blushed. "I'm afraid I can't accept that. This is somehow symbolic in my culture. If you wish to see me wear the amulet, you'll have to let me pay for it."

"As the lady wishes." Gulhrys bowed again.

They concluded their transactions and the drow bowed one last time. Valen and Chama left in the direction of the public house, where a couple of haberdashers resided and held a stand. Valen was careful with the distance behind him and waited until he was sure to be out of earshot of the mage.

He refused to acknowledge what he itched to snap about. "What is this challenge you two fought?"

Chama startled slightly. "An old trick between wizards. It's a challenge in spellcraft. The goal is to use as many languages as possible to cast a pre-cantrip."

"A pre-cantrip?"

"A simple, barely magical exercise, if you prefer. It's not a full cantrip, but only a slim calling on magic. We used the preparing exercise for Candle today, and I was lucky that it was an introduction to Evocation, which is my school of magic of choice. Gulhrys is very learned in spellcraft. I'm not sure I could best him in Illusion or some other foreign school of magic."

Valen laughed. "Well, whatever it is you won, he was considerably more kind on the prices for you. Had I known that he prefers to deal with mages, I would have sent Nathyrra when I needed something from him."

Chama shrugged. "Where are those haberdashers you said I could hire? I really need my clothes dealt with."

"They are in the public house. But before we reach it, I would discuss something with you."

"What?", she asked, turning to look at him.

"You were asked to his House's quarters, which are in the Mae'viir's House…"

"I already told him that I'm not very familiar with drow culture," Chama cut, "and asked where I can get him a message. I trust him to be smart enough to know that I'll change the arrangements after some consultation with someone who can council me with drow customs. If you don't mind, I'd prefer to discuss the need of a chaperone or any other particular custom to be respected with Nathyrra or the Seer, and not you."

"I was kindly designated by Nathyrra to shepherd you around Lith My'athar," Valen retorted, "if you recall. I can rid you of my guidance if you don't wish it."

"Don't take it so," she answered gently. "I know Nathyrra for a slightly longer time than you, though, and would feel more comfortable discussing what awaits me – because I have every intention of trying to know what to expect – with a woman. If you don't mind."

He struggled for a while before finally yielding in what he hoped was a graceful manner. "Very well, if you will discuss politics and customs with Nathyrra. I feel I must warn you, however, to tread carefully. The Underdark is unknown to you, and it comprises many dangers that you will not suspect."

"I'll be careful. I'm aware that I am in unknown territory."

They made their way in silence to the public house. Valen gallantly opened the door for her and she was somewhat surprised by the sudden chivalry of the harsh tiefling in full armour, with a behemoth of a flail hooked at his belt.

"I had no idea you could actually be gallant. That armour of yours can be misleading."

Valen smiled grimly. "Mereth and Silmoraner are over there," he pointed.

She found the two merchants sitting behind their stall, looking bored. It was obvious business had been slow lately.

"Greetings!", the female, Mereth, exclaimed, springing to her feet to welcome them. "Customers! The rarest of furniture these times… What can I do for you, Valen? Darthirii?"

Chama smiled to herself, wondering if being brisk was a prerequisite to be merchant in the Underdark.

"I am in need of a miracle, or new clothes, that depends on your skill," she said as she unpacked her still drenched underclothes.

Both merchants wriggled their noses, although careful to keep pretence of politeness for their customer.

"I washed it before I brought it to you. Imagine that," Chama grinned. "I really like those clothes for under my armour, because it is soft and cut just right for me, but I am afraid it has seen better days, and there never seemed to be an occasion to have a copy of it made. Now I am afraid that I have to make the occasion. Is it possible to save it?"

The male, after a glare from Mereth, unfolded the drenched and smelly cloth prudently. The female, looking but not touching, assessed the state of the clothes before her.

"I doubt it will ever smell good again, and it is worn out almost beyond repair. Even if I sew the tears, it will tear apart in other places in a matter of days. It would be wiser to replace it."

"I thought so," Chama sighed. "Then, could I see your choice of fabrics?"

Silmoraner folded the dirty and worn piece of clothing and put it away under the table, hastily cleaning the counter under the renewed glare of the female. She then proceeded to show the customer the different fabrics.

"No linen or anything resembling, my skin can't tolerate that under armour," Chama pleaded.

The female put aside a whole bundle of fabrics, and then pulled another, with a look of haughty pleasure on her face.

"The lady has taste, I see. My choice of silks is all for you to try."

"You only have silk? No cotton? No nothing else?"

"Cotton is hard to grow in the Underdark, kivvil," the female answered with amusement.

"Silk it is then, I guess," Chama sighed.

Valen frowned. She was not really going to buy enough silk to replace all her underclothes? But she did, after a hard enough bargain that brought the price lower than Valen expected, but it was still an outrageous sum.

"When will it be ready?", Chama asked.

"By tomorrow night; earlier if you pay a supplement."

"Tomorrow night is fine."

Chama gave half the sum to the merchant as down payment, then was out again with Valen. She paused, and Valen asked, "Where do you want me to walk you now?"

"I'm sorry if I'm losing your time, but I really needed someone to show me around."

Valen frowned. "I didn't say that."

"No, but it's written in that frown on your forehead."

Valen blushed slightly, facing Chama's amused smile. She lifted an eyebrow; huge tieflings with harsh eyes could blush?

"I think I walked around enough for my tastes for tonight," she concluded. "I will go back to my room in the temple, and you can go back to your training with Commander Imloth."

Valen nodded, but nevertheless escorted her to the temple.


	4. Making a Team

Chapter III. Making a team

Chama sighed and turned in the incredibly comfortable bed to look at the clock. It was early, but the day was very likely to be long. She sat in her bed, waiting for the dizziness to fade, grimacing at her many wounds that had re-opened during the night. Facing the facts, she was going to be forced to stay in the city a few days. Her body did not take kindly to the treatment she had received throughout Undermountain, not to mention Halaster's geas.

Again, she cursed her female body's weakness, but pushed the rage, humiliation and violence aside. She had strength of mind and determination. It was enough for her to make of her life what she wished. And she did not wish it to be rage, humiliation and violence.

She dressed in the Nathyrra-style clothes again, and then went out of her room. When she reached the temple's main room, overlooked by the Spider Queen's statue, Valen was pacing back and forth, his tail lashing angrily, Deekin was careful to make himself forgotten in the furthest corner, and Nathyrra was practicing her throwing of a dagger on a target.

_Here it goes_, Chama thought with some nervousness at facing her would-be team.

"Good morning. I see you're up early."

Valen stopped pacing and fixed his intense and unsettling gaze on her as she was coming closer to him and Nathyrra. Deekin hurriedly skittered closer.

"Good morning, Chamaedaphne," Nathyrra greeted, retrieving her dagger. "I guess you came to hear about the Valsharess's army?"

"I guess now would be a good time to begin to know of her, yes. But first, you can call me Chama, you know, it's much shorter and more practical. And I don't care much to bear the name of a flower."

"Have to note that about Boss' name," Deekin muttered. "Where did Deekin puts his pencil?"

Valen raised an irate eyebrow at the kobold, but turned back to the elf. "A chamaedaphne is a flower?"

"That's not one I know," Nathyrra added.

"You don't have to," Chama replied. "It's the elvish name for a remarkably unremarkable flower. It has small greenish white flowers, does not smell particularly nice and does not bear edible fruits. Of course, my mother always tried to make me recall that it will survive in poor conditions, is not demanding for water or sunlight, and is used in many useful folk remedies. But I always stayed stuck with the idea that it's just some ordinary flower."

There was a dark look on her face at the mention of her mother, but she chased it away with a kind smile.

"Anyway, I don't think you need a lesson in surface flowers this morning. I'm here for information. The Valsharess. Her army. What of her allies. What of ours. How long before she moves. Any information on so-called 'dread Mephistopheles'."

_Mephistopheles?_, Valen thought in surprise, but kept silence. How had she learned the arch-devil's name? Nathyrra too quirked an eyebrow, but answered, "You should see Commander Imloth for information on troop movements, and maybe the Seer if you wish to discuss the arch-devil. I can tell you of the Valsharess's allies."

"Please do. Can I call you Nat? I'm pretty lazy when it comes to names."

"You can call me Nat," the drow smiled. "The allies we know of the Valsharess, besides the powerful drow Houses and duergar servants that she directs and cannot be swayed in so little time, are undead, beholders, and illithids."

"Start with the undead. What kind of undead? Numbers plausibly raised by priestesses, or something graver is to be expected?"

"Something graver, I'm afraid. The undead creatures are mostly zombies, skeletons and mummies."

"Nothing too exotic," Chama said. "Vampires likely to be expected? Liches?"

"As far as we know, nothing of the sort. We are told a cult of necromancers exists, but it is just second-hand rumour. Since we ignore the true source of those undead, we cannot eliminate any possibilities. "

"Sound precaution. Do you have any information as to their origin?"

Nathyrra sighed. "This answer is going to be repetitive, but it is somewhere in the Underdark area adjacent to Lith My'athar, somewhere to the west. We don't know for sure. The same is valid for the two other allies."

"Very well. The beholders?"

Nathyrra explained that the eye tyrant of the closest hive had been recruited by the Valsharess, by unknown means.

"At least," Chama concluded, "if I clean their nest nothing much should come from their hive. I would expect the illithids to be another story though. What do you know of them? How were they convinced into the Valsharess's service?"

"We don't know. We know that the drow queen likely recruited the service of many Overminds… I'm sorry. You seem to know illithids, but maybe not as well as I suppose. Am I getting ahead of myself?"

"No, I know quite well what an Overmind his – in theory at least. I could go and try to negotiate, but mind tyrants will likely ask a high price to remove their promised help from the Valsharess."

Nathyrra nodded, while Valen listened silently. At least, she was not some stupid hot head who would run into a fight without caring to design a battle plan. She was perceptive and carefully appraising about their situation. The tiefling let out an inaudible sigh. He was cynically relieved that his job of protector to the Seer would not include rescuing the army from the stranger's foolish orders.

"So, besides Imloth who can likely give me more pragmatic advice on fighting those creatures," Chama concluded, "you don't have anything else to say than exploring the surrounding caves to the west of Lith My'athar."

Nathyrra smirked. "My spies have already told me this much, Chama."

"I know it's much," the wood elf corrected quickly. "I couldn't have simply guessed this information. I had just hoped for something a bit more specific, but I imagine I'll make a plan as I go. Besides, it's nothing I've never faced before."

"I would advise to visit a few other places also," Valen chimed in.

"Very well. What locations do you have in mind?"

"Recently, I've heard tales of some strange islands nearby. Based on the legends, there may be something on these islands that could help us against the Valsharess."

"Tell me about these islands then. But I thought the river was impossible to cross."

"I will get there," Valen replied. At least she seemed to have a memory, doubly fuzzy or not. He proceeded to explain to her what he had heard of the Isle of the Maker and the town of winged elves.

"Winged elves? Avariel?", she asked.

"I'm not familiar with the term you use for them, but I've heard they are winged elves. They likely appeared there by the magic of a powerful artefact –"

"It would take no less for a town of Avariel to end up in the Underdark."

Valen glared at the interruption and went on, "– that we might use in our fight against the Valsharess."

"But that she's also likely to want for herself."

Valen nodded. "As for crossing the river, we can request the services of Cavallas, the boatman."

The tiefling tried to explain as best he could the strange being that was Cavallas, and the support he lent to the Seer without disclosing his reasons. Chama frowned slightly, but nodded at Valen's explanation. It was late enough in the morning once Valen and Nathyrra were done showing her maps of the surroundings and the four of them had heard the latest reports on their army's state.

Chama pushed back the maps.

"I really am impatient to wear my circlet and ring again. That's such a temptation… Please change my mind. Tell me, if I am to venture out of this town to the west, I would appreciate a guide. More than a guide, a companion to fight at my side."

"Boss not be forgetting Deekin?", the kobold suddenly chirped, tugging at her sleeve with a distressed expression.

Chama beamed at the kobold. "Of course not, Deekin, but you can hardly be my guide in the Underdark… I need a companion who knows this place."

The kobold nodded wisely, sliding back into silence, soon forgotten by the others.

"I'm not sure how these things work in the Underdark though," Chama confessed and turned back to Nathyrra and Valen. "Do the drow function as mercenaries, or as parties? Who would be willing and skilled enough to accompany me?"

"I was hoping you would ask," Nathyrra grinned. "I would gladly journey with you. Far better to be active than to wait here for the Valsharess to act."

Chama shook the drow's slim hand. "I'm glad for your presence, Nat. But… between the two of us and Deekin, we're embarked on a journey to death. We need someone to take the brunt of the fight, because summons can only do so much, and I doubt that, with the Valsharess on the move, we can afford to rest every five hours to replenish our spells."

That's when Valen spoke, his voice low and measured.

"I don't believe in the Seer's dreams, Chamaedaphne."

"Chama."

Valen glared, irritated, at the interruption, but Chama just kept smiling at him in a sunny manner. His irritation had melted down in good part under that smile when he continued. "Though I do believe you want to stop the Valsharess. Yes, I think it would be to everyone's advantage if we were to join forces."

She shook his hand, with a great smile.

"I'm glad you accepted. Now I feel like I have a team with a chance for survival."

"How optimistic of you," Nathyrra observed with a giggle.

Deekin started humming the Doom Song, and there was some wicked sense of humour in his timing that did not escape Chama.

"I'm serious," Chama countered, even if she repressed a smile because of Deekin's antics. The kobold really did not look like it, but he knew he could make her laugh and always tried his best. "We'll train this afternoon, and you'll see why I don't have much trust in my survival if I go alone. But first, let's see about your equipment. If you will wait for me a few minutes, I will retrieve my pack from my room, and we'll see if anything can be of use to you."

Valen and Nathyrra waited, still discussing the Valsharess's allies, while Deekin stayed there, inconspicuous and forgotten, until Chama came back, carrying her pack. It was, unlike a warrior's more voluminous bag, a little leather bag that she could strap to her back. Warriors and thieves were more of the habit of something to be slumped over a shoulder and hastily dropped as combat was beginning, because a heavy weight on the back is hurtful for balance.

She set the bag down and opened it. In it were many bags of holding, six of them. She took the first one.

"Armour and weapons. You might want to look through it, Valen, and then hand it over to Nat, I think there's a dagger or two."

She got another one out. "Potions and healing kits. I need to sort it out and see what we won't need. Your opinion, Nat?"

The drow took the bag and opened it. "Well, you've got pretty much all kinds of potions."

"Yes. What I usually do is sell all those that enhance attributes such as strength, because magical equipment will play that role. I usually sell lore and speed also, since I have a few pairs of boots with that magical property, but perhaps you'd like one?"

She was looking critically at Nathyrra's boots and it was obvious that she knew what their enchantment was without the need to examine them closely or flip them over.

"I could keep a few ones, yes," the drow added, then stashed them in her belt.

"I'll keep the most powerful healing potions for Valen and a few less powerful for us. We'll keep the healing kits and antidotes, and then sell the rest."

"I agree. I don't think we would have much use for the rest."

Valen had been oblivious to that last exchange as his awed eyes slid over the sleek and glowing lines of the three armours ensconced in the bag of holding.

"Where did you find a red dragon scale?", he asked.

"Oh, well… I killed a red dragon, why? I know it's grand and glorious, but you'd probably be best served by the chainmail of speed. That is, if you're willing to stop wearing the one you have now, and I know it's symbolic to you."

Valen looked over the other chainmail, which was also red in appearance. It was indeed better than the one he wore.

"I can never give up my armour," he declared.

Nathyrra clucked her tongue impatiently. "You don't have to give it up, but it seems to me that it's wiser to wear the best equipment you have. It's a rare engagement when you don't have to use every edge you have."

Chama lifted an eyebrow. It was the assassin within Nathyrra who had spoken, but she had given sound advice. "She's right. You can still wear your armour most of the time, but I think it would be safer, for the four of us, if you wore the most powerful armour when we are to face a dangerous battle."

Valen nodded. "I will try it on this afternoon to train, and will ask Rizolvir about any adjustments if necessary. Thank you, Chama, for this armour."

"My pleasure. Do you think Imloth would like the red dragon scale? I'd offer it to Rizolvir, but I suspect he would hang it to expose it in his forge but do little use of it."

Valen and Nathyrra laughed. "Imloth would not _like_ a red dragon scale," Nathyrra finally exclaimed, "he would _drool_ over a red dragon scale."

"Very well then. But maybe it would be better if… if it is one of you who gave it to him? I am still new here, and I don't know how giving such powerful armour to someone is going to be perceived."

"As the new leader of our forces, it will show that you take your officers seriously if you give the armour to Imloth personally," Valen said.

"The new leader of your forces?", Chama repeated. "The Seer made it pretty clear yesterday that it was your battle prowess that kept you all alive up until now. I don't see why I would suddenly be the new leader of your forces."

"Because of the Seer's visions," Valen spat.

"Are you questioning the Seer, Valen?", Nathyrra demanded, her tone cold and sharp as a blade.

"Not yet, Nathyrra. Not yet."

There was a moment of silence.

"So… here are the wands and magical scrolls," Chama announced, taking another bag of holding out of her small backpack to change the subject. "I was thinking of selling all the parchments and rods but resurrection, summon creature of levels seven, eight and nine, and Tenser transformation. You can pick the rest if you think you will use it."

She took another bag out; this one was smaller, but not as heavily enchanted as the other true bags of holding.

"Gems, rings and amulets. There are a few among those that are magical. You can pick what you will. Oh, all but the Amulet of the Master. I need this one on occasion."

She tossed the bag to Valen, who opened it and looked at the contents.

"A ring of clear thought!" Nathyrra suddenly squealed and jumped for the ring in the middle of the bag. Then she looked up to Chama. "I'm sorry, is this yours?"

"Not anymore, Nathyrra. You can take it, but I think Gulhrys has others, more powerful. I'll check with him tonight. Which reminds me, I need to speak with you privately."

Valen growled. "You had better warn her well, Nathyrra. She's been invited by Gulhrys for dinner tonight."

Nathyrra arched an eyebrow. "The high wizard invited a female to dinner? He's bolder than I gave him credit for. But Valen's right, there are a few things you should be warned about."

"Later, in private, please, Nat."

The drow nodded.

"What is in this last bag of yours?", Nathyrra inquired, curious.

"My spell components. It's rather smelly, so I don't open it unless forced to."

The drow winked. "I understand. I know all to well what a bag of spell components smells like."

Once her two new companions were done donning their new equipment – with the exception of Valen's armour – Chama eyed them.

"You two need gauntlets. But it will do for now. I'm a bit hungry now. It would be nice if Nathyrra would show me to somewhere where I can eat and warn me enough to ease Valen's worries during lunch, and we could train this afternoon. We need to know how each other fight and the team needs to practice a few basic tactics."

"I agree," Valen concurred. "I need to try this new armour too, and Nathyrra should also familiarize herself with all her new equipment."

The drow nodded, and then helped Chama to pack her things back up. She stood up gracefully. "Let's lunch and discuss, and after that we will shop a bit – we need to empty this bag of yours if we are to bring back spoils from those many glorious adventures awaiting us."

Chama stood in her turn.

"Hm, Boss?"

"Yes, Deekin?"

"What should Deekin do while Boss speaks with drow lady?"

Nathyrra smiled, flattered to be addressed as "lady".

"I don't know, Deekin… What would you like to do?"

"Deekin is a bits hungry…"

Valen saw it coming, but still growled when Chama turned to him. "No," he muttered.

She glared at him with narrowed eyes. "Yes," she whispered, and turned on her heel before he could protest, leaving him baffled and alone with the hungry kobold, to find suitable food for such a creature.

After two seconds, he overcame his shock at being treated so forcefully and how she had _dared_ to so blatantly ignore his opinion. His eyes flared red and he glowered at the kobold who, surprisingly enough, did not skitter away as was intended. The kobold looked at him patiently and, if Valen could read reptilian faces better, he was sure he would have seen amusement there. It baffled him even more and he growled, getting to his feet, "Come on. Let's find something you can eat."


	5. Clashing

Chapter IV. Clashing again

Nathyrra and Chama went up to the public house to get their lunch. They settled at a table in an isolated corner and were served by a discreet male.

"Now, Nat, I'd like to know. Why did Gulhrys invite me to dinner? Is it some sort of social meeting, or because it is an occasion to share knowledge with a fellow wizard, or because he is male and I am female?"

Nathyrra smiled at the last phrase. "I don't know Gulhrys very well, but if I had to guess, I'd say he's interested because you impressed him in his spellcraft challenge. How many tongues did you use against him before he bested you?"

There was a short silence. "He's never been bested before?", Chama asked.

"No, he hasn't. Now wait… you won?"

"Well… yes. Forty-three languages to cast the candle pre-cantrip, if I recall correctly."

Nathyrra cast a surprised but admiring glance at her fellow wizard. "Alright… now it's possible he invited you because he's male and you're female. Did he say where he was taking you?"

"He said to his House's dining quarters. I hesitated; it seemed a bit intimate to me, and I told him I might send him a message, in case I changed my mind."

"That's a bit rude, but he's smart enough to understand that you're not aware of our culture and that Valen wouldn't explain that sort of things to you in his presence."

She grunted. "I'm grateful. Now, are his House's dining quarters an intimate place?"

Nathyrra pondered briefly the question. "Not so much, since it will not be a private dinner, but it's still in his… in his territory, so to speak, and it'll forward his status to you and to the others of his House."

"I hate politics," Chama declared with heartfelt conviction. "Alright, since guessing his intentions seems hard enough, maybe you could just spare me the politics and warn me of the potential dangers and what I should avoid doing at all costs."

"I like how you always go straight to the point, Chama. You must not accept his proposal to give you a personal item of his – a ring, or an amulet, or a pin, or a brooch, or anything else."

"I would not be comfortable accepting something such, but tell me… what exactly does it mean?"

"I think I'll clear this particular custom just a bit. In the traditional drow houses, males are females' properties. Among the followers of Eilistraee, however, even though long habits die hard, it's not legally the case. In drow tradition, the male gives one of his personal items to a female to signify that he surrenders his possessions and himself to her."

She grimaced. "I see."

Nathyrra frowned. She _was_ one of Eilistraee's followers and approved the idea of males belonging to themselves, even if she had not had any occasion to experiment this particular kind of relationship yet, being a new follower. Still, she found Chama's apparent disgust of her people's customs a bit insulting.

The wood elf had noticed it. "I'm sorry, Nat, it's just that it reminds me of some unpleasant things," she specified hastily. "In the human world, the males dominate, and I cannot say that either system has convinced me that it is a good thing."

At that Nathyrra nodded thoughtfully. "Besides making him keeping his own belongings," the drow added, "I'd advise against discussing Eilistraee, the Seer, the Matron Mother or the Valsharess while in the House Mae'viir."

"Does that apply to public areas only or does it also include private discussions? Gulhrys is an arrogant wizard, and I can tell that he wouldn't serve any House at all if it wasn't necessary for his survival. I think he'd be willing to discuss the Mae'viir's intentions with me, if in private. I'd trust his private workspace to be free of spies or magical surveillance, given his status."

The drow lifted an eyebrow. "I wasn't aware you were a spymaster."

Chama smiled slyly. "Oh, I'm not, but I used to know one and he did manage to show me a few tricks. So, what of Gulhrys's private quarters or lab?"

Nathyrra considered a moment. "Well, such information would be valuable to us. House Mae'viir's support is not… guaranteed. They fear the Valsharess, and it might be that they fear her enough to betray us. I agree that you should try and tear information out of the High Wizard, if you're relatively confident that the surroundings are safe."

"Alright. Now, a more pragmatic topic: what should I wear not to appear inappropriate? I was thinking of my old robe of resistance to fire. It's a functional piece of clothing, yet it has some style, and it would put me out as a wizard, not as female. What do you think?"

Nathyrra approved. "Very good choice in my opinion. Gulhrys might think it's a bit lacking in power for a magical garment, but then it will not serve to pull things in a direction you don't desire."

"Alright. I admit it would… it would feel good to have my hair up and feel… like a beautiful lady, not a dirty adventurer, just for a night. Would you… would you help me with my hair, Nathyrra?"

The drow smiled at Chama's embarrassment, and nodded her agreement.

"Besides avoiding such topics of conversation as politics and the current troubles of Lith My'athar and refusing personal items of his," Chama summarized, "is there something else I should not do?"

"You should not let a drow guard insult you."

"I'm not in the habit of letting people insult me, but I admit that my methods are probably not those of a Matron Mother. I hardly have the strength to physically handle anyone. Will a smart answer will do?"

"You have to make sure it's smart enough."

Chama smiled innocently. "Would a polymorph spell be smart enough?"

"Most definitely," Nathyrra agreed with a wicked smile, "moreover since the poor victim would have to seek Gulhrys's assistance in turning back to his original form, and it would be greatly humiliating since you were Gulhrys's guest."

"Alright, I also have some scorching cantrips that can teach a pig his manners. Would that be too rash?"

"Keep that for extremes measures. You are catching up quite nicely to drow culture," Nathyrra smirked.

An expressionless mask settled over Chama's face for a moment and the drow fell silent. _Oh, how I have been accused of this before_, Chama thought, before she forcefully went on. "Any other advice on how to behave? I know I shook your hand earlier, but I think it's not a customary way to answer to a greeting."

"A simple bow of the head will do. You're expected to bow your head to the Matron Mother if you meet her."

"No curtsy required?"

"No curtsy," Nathyrra confirmed, laughing at Chama's relief.

"Is this all?"

"That's all I can think of. I'd advise against flirting too much with Gulhrys either. He's a powerful male and you wouldn't like to give the impression of grovelling before him."

"Oh, I have no intention of flirting or grovelling. I accepted his invitation to tell him how I learned an ancient kobold dialect and to learn the base of the mermaids' casting tongue. Now I hope that Valen will think me adequately warned. I'm not sure if it's this way among drow, but it would be extremely rude for a male elf to advise a woman on such matters."

Nathyrra smiled slightly, trying to picture the weapon master with his behemoth of a flail discussing the choice of dress with Chama. She shook her head and banished the silly image. "I'm afraid Valen wasn't even aware he was being rude and embarrassing. Drow males would not dare to tell a female what she must be careful about – not even the followers of Eilistraee – and I think Valen's lived with us for long enough to know. But he isn't a drow male, and isn't treated as such."

"I understand," Chama nodded. "I just hope he won't come back on the subject."

Nathyrra smiled. "Don't worry. If he does, I'll distract him."

They left their table once they cleared the last remnants of their lunch and went to collect Chama's armour at Rizolvir's forge. The elf also bought gauntlets for Nathyrra and Valen, and then both women went to meet Valen and Deekin at the training grounds, where Commander Imloth was busy drilling a score of recruits. Deekin stood to one side, his crossbow at the ready, and Valen wore his new armour and was making a few warm-up swings with his huge flail.

_By Mystra, he _is_ intimidating when swinging that thing_, she thought to herself while the piece of metal whistled back and forth through the air. Even in a human city, Valen would have struck as very tall; he seemed even bigger in contrast with the shorter and leaner drow. He was huge, and even more so with a full chainmail on, but he moved agilely and quickly – quicker because of the armour, but Chama could tell that his balance was not only the benefit of his armour.

The weapon master stopped when they came closer and gave a bow of the head to the two women. Chama smiled to herself; he was becoming more civil. Should she consider it a good sign, or merely a deception to better surprise her with curtness later on?

"How is the armour?", she asked.

"It's not helping my dilemma," he admitted with a regretful smile. "It's comfortable, light and powerful. I consider putting my armour away for good to take dust into my pack."

"I'm pleased you like it. Now, speaking of armour, Commander Imloth, I have something that you might find useful."

The drow warrior stepped forward after growling a word to his troops who hastily set to the newly ordered series of exercises. Imloth looked curiously while she unpacked one of her bags of holding and opened it, revealing a Red dragon scale underneath. She covered the stunned silence of the drow commander with a short history of the armour he was gaping at.

"I carry this with me for months; I was hoping to find someone who could use it and I didn't want to just sell it away. Since I already equipped Valen, I thought you should be next, being the troops' commander."

She pulled the scale from the bag and put it down on the ground to be admired. The recruits had stopped their exercises and were staring in awe.

"Resume!", Valen barked. "What do you think you'll learn standing there with your mouths gaping? In position! All together. Keep the pace! Faster!"

Under Valen's stern commands and intimidating cyan glare, the recruits hastily resumed their exercises.

Imloth looked at Chama with a curious expression on his face, but finally he smiled, "Thank you. I assure you that this armour won't be wasted. I will wear it at all times and I will serve Eilistraee with it. I think you did well to carry this armour for so long. Now it will serve a worthy cause."

"I'm pleased you like it," she repeated with a smile. "But you have to do something for me in exchange."

"What is that?"

"Just hand us a few recruits that we can train with this afternoon. We need to train as a team for a bit before we set off."

"Of course! Those here are at your disposal, as am I, as soon as I slip this marvel on. Valen, could you help me please?"

After one last glare to keep the recruits going, Valen moved to Imloth's side and helped him remove his drow chain and try the dragon scale. The drow rolled his shoulders experimentally, and then made a few moves.

"My leather armour is not exactly fit for this new mail, but Rizolvir will take care of that easily enough. Now, what do you have in mind, Chamaedaphne?"

"Please, call me Chama, it's much shorter. First I'd like to see my warrior – sorry to call you that, Valen – in a full attack and see how long he holds. I need to know when he needs my spells or not."

A grim smile appeared on Valen's face at those words and he turned challengingly to the recruits he would be facing. A few already started fidgeting nervously. Still staring at them, the tiefling drawled lazily, "You might like to get me a practice weapon, Imloth, unless you want your recruits somewhat… roughed up." He had learned long ago in the Abyss that a part of the battle began before the first swings were exchanged.

Imloth handed him a practice flail, with a head of padded leather, then took a wooden sword and took place at the head of his troops. The drow warrior issued a few orders and the soldiers took place obediently behind him, breaking neatly into orderly ranks.

Valen crouched down into an offensive position, brought his flail up, and looked at the squadron of ten drow facing him. He evaluated his chances and opening carefully, and then charged.

"Into the flames we leap!"

He let out a savage laugh and Chama watched silently. He rushed into one of the recruits shoulder first, sending the soldier plummeting backwards into two of his comrades. Valen turned around quickly enough to deflect three blades descending at his back with a single swipe of his flail, which he brought around with unbelievable speed to strike again, right on a recruit's shoulder, who winced in pain.

"That would have been at your head! Step out!", Valen said. He did not even sound breathless. He did not break his move and brought his flail around as he spun again, kicking out behind him right in Imloth's chest to keep his adversaries away from his back.

The size of his flail seemed a complete contradiction with the speed with which he swung, and each of his hits lost nothing of precision because of his quickness. He moved his considerable bulk and the heavy weight of his armour effortlessly, in perfect balance. It took him barely more than twenty seconds to bring the ten drow down.

"All this and not breaking a sweat," Chama commented when Valen stood in the middle of the defeated recruits. "Again. I need to know how long you can hold out, so I know when to send in back up or spells or order the retreat."

This time Imloth commanded only five recruits, to be replaced by the other five as soon as one fell. Again Valen crouched down, his flail pulled back to swing, and charged happily into the fray. This time there was no breathing time, because his adversaries were deftly replaced one after the other. However, the recruits were opponents that he could spar with effortlessly, and he did not feel hard pressed.

Chama, watching him silently again, could see in his carefree swings that indeed, he had no trouble at all. Imloth and the recruits looked more breathless than the tiefling who was having no break. The elf waited until she saw that Valen's hits were only slightly slower than at the beginning, and then she called out, "Halt. I think I have seen what I need to see."

Valen turned with a grin to Chama, to see the effect his skill had on her. Imloth's recruits were not adversaries with whom he could show off the extent of his mastery, but he still was satisfied with how he had dealt with their numbers. Chama was eyeing him with a bland look and said in a flat voice, "You are a fighter."

"A weapon master, to be exact, Chama."

At that she gave him a small smile. "I meant it as praise. I have fought for a time with a monk, then a thief as my warrior, and then with an Uthgardt barbarian. Daelan – the barbarian – was more into blind charges and overrunning enemies with his mere size and strength. It is the first time I will have the opportunity to travel with someone whose main focus in combat is the mastery of his weapons."

"As a weapon master, I wield only one weapon," Valen pointedly corrected her use of the plural, "and it is the heavy flail."

"I can see how it must have been useful to you in the infinite battlefields of the Blood Wars."

Valen took a step back, his eyes flickering in colour in an unnerving way. Nathyrra was frozen, as were Deekin, Imloth and the recruits, determined not to attract an angry and off-balance tiefling's attention when someone else had struck so sensible a chord.

"Why do you speak of the Blood Wars?", Valen asked.

Chama kept her bland calm, but she could tell she had said something she should not have. "That battle cry of yours: 'Into the flames we leap'," she explained. "I know it's the battle cry of the tanar'ri. With your horns and tail that herald you as a tiefling, I just supposed you learned it there. Forgive me if I offended you, it was not my intention."

"How do you know it to be the battle cry of the tanar'ri?", he inquired suspiciously.

She shrugged. "I'm a wizard. I can summon demons and devils to my service. I tended to prefer demons. I found it easier to deal with 'Into the flames we leap!' than with 'I obey you only as long as I have to' while in the middle of a battle, because I usually sent back my fiendish servants as soon as the battle was over. I also got the feeling that demons were less of a kind to hold a grudge against a wizard to be summoned for a bloody battle than devils were. Demons seemed satisfied with the destruction, while I always got the unnerving feelings that devils would only have been satisfied with a way to break their contract and accomplish _my_ destruction."

Valen looked at her uneasily for a long moment, feeling shame, mixed with rage, well up inside of him at how accurate her perception of things was. She looked away suddenly, and added, "I don't summon demons or devils anymore. I stick with dire monsters and elementals now, and I don't think I would ever have had the power to summon one such as you, if it's any consolation to you."

Nathyrra, Imloth and the other drow were still frozen and holding carefully still. Making oneself forgotten is a skill necessary for survival in drow society and each drow that reaches maturity has mastered it. Deekin had nothing to envy to the other's ability to make oneself forgotten, with his white dragon of a master.

"Was this at the same time that you almost lost your mind to a circlet of intellect? Because summoning demons is known among wizards as an endeavour for the foolishly ambitious," Valen shot back. The demon stirred within. He wanted to hurt her suddenly. She looked back at him with an expressionless mask and cold eyes that spoke of alien detachment; it chilled him and made him momentarily forget his anger.

"Yes, it was during that period of my life," she concurred flatly. "I will tell you one more thing. I have spied by indirect means on Belial for personal reasons. Did you know that the demon prince was recently freed and returned to the Abyss? Now, I will kindly keep for myself what I have seen all the demons do during the Blood Wars – no doubt what _you_ have done also, when you were in the Abyss – if you will refrain from inquiring more about my past."

The fearless tiefling with a temper paled before the small and cold elf.

"We both obviously changed since we are here to help the Seer now," she added, some emotion returning in her voice. Her tone had been as icy and chilling as the coldest winter night Valen had ever experienced in the frozen planes. "So I would concentrate on the present and not on the past. Now let us train together, my warrior."


	6. Training

Chapter V. Training

Chama snapped her icy eyes on Imloth and he looked into a pair of black eyes that reminded him of handmaidens of Lolth. He swallowed and bowed.

"Your instructions, Chamaedaphne?"

There was a chilling smile on her lips. _Who would knowingly call me by a flower's name while in this state of mind?_

"We need to practice our retreat move," she said, although by the sound of it, it was as clear an order as Imloth had ever received.

She gave instructions on what exercise she had in mind and everyone moved silently to comply. There was a hard edge to the battle at that moment, Valen swinging harder, with a fiercer determination, while he covered his companions' retreat.

"You're too fast, it leaves us open for arrows," Chama noted tonelessly. "You'll get used to the armour's hasting in time, I imagine. Let's do it again."

They did, several times.

"That's the best we'll get in one day, I think," Chama finally decreed. "Now, we need to practice fights in confined spaces. Do you have a corridor or a door we could block for a while?"

Imloth, still treading carefully despite the cold blackness that was gone from her eyes, gestured them to the infantry's dormitory. He took the occasion to replace his ten recruits by fresh ones. The freed soldiers exited the dormitory and went to collapse as one by the riverbank to rest their sore muscles. Valen, Nathyrra, Deekin and Chama fought against a dozen new recruits in a narrow door.

On their second try, a particularly limp swordsman managed to slip under Valen's left arm when the tiefling swung on his right side. The drow thrust at Chama. The elf side-stepped the first blow, but was hit in the gut by the second one. The recruit was cut down immediately by Nathyrra and her hidden dagger, but the assassin called a halt to the exercise.

"Stop, Chama's been brought down."

Valen turned, frowning.

"He would not really have brought you down with just a stab at the gut?", the tiefling asked.

"I'm glad that at least you know what happened," she answered, and her familiar lightness had returned. "But yes, without stoneskins he would. Now you know how easily I am brought down and why I need a warrior so badly."

"I also know that I must make sure not even one manages to run past me, no matter what is happening in front of me," he replied, still frowning, as though not quite believing what had happened. "Nathyrra, where were you?"

"In the shadows," the drow answered with a self-satisfied smile, "in _your_ shadow, actually, to your right."

"It would be better if you kept the left then," Valen advised. "If someone is going to sneak past me, it's likely to be on my left side."

"That would be where I summoned my dire creature if it was safe to use one in training. On the battlefield, I'll put a bear there, if we fight in a door like that." Seeing the bland look she received from Nathyrra, Chama added, "No bears in the Underdark, I take it? Bears are all left-handed."

They trained a while more, and finally, it was Nathyrra who said, "I think we'll do fine in small spaces. Dinner time is approaching."

"I agree that it's enough for us today," Chama concurred. "I have still a bit to do, and I would like you to watch, so you know… know my weakness a little better."

She pointed to the male who had brought her down earlier. "You, what is your name?"

"Mekefal," the drow answered with a slight bow.

"From what I can tell, you appear to be a match for me, where fencing is concerned. How long have you been training intensely like this?"

"A little over three months."

"Encouraging," Chama stated acidly. "Last time I checked I measured to a two-week trainee at the Academy. But never mind. Would you spar with me, one-on-one?"

The drow shot an inquiring look to Commander Imloth, who gestured him ahead.

"As you wish, darthirii."

They made their way outside, while Imloth ordered the recruits to put the furniture that had been moved back into place. Chama and Mekefal drew their wooden swords and started circling each other cautiously.

"I'm a wizard, so you don't have to be overly concerned by my attacks," she smiled.

The swordsman kept silence, observing her moves carefully. He made a thrust and she sidestepped the same way she had earlier. She did not lunge to counter-attack, and she seemed determined to fight defensively. Prudently, he attacked a few times, and she appeared easier to hit by thrusting than cutting, with that elven grace of hers that allowed her to sidestep quickly.

Valen watched the both of them and repressed a snort. He knew the recruit's style well enough to spar with him with his eyes closed, and anyway he was more interested in Chama's skill. She was a typical spellcaster; sloppy style, weak guard, half-hearted counterattacks, but quick hands, attentive eyes, and intelligent strategy. He assessed silently to himself that the long sword was not a weapon fit for her; with her impressive speed and incredible balance, she would have been better off with a light weapon she could have manoeuvred more proficiently. That was another thing typical of spellcasters: they never received proper counsel where the bodily aspects of battle were concerned.

At his first thrusting cut, Mekefal grazed Chama's left arm, and he escaped a blow to the head by a hair breadth. The few following minutes of fruitless attacks on either side only served to confirm Valen's initial assessment. Mekefal suddenly lunged for an opening when Chama drew her blade too far forward after he avoided it, and he slashed at her waist, hitting hard enough on her side.

It was just a practice strike, though, one that only left a bruise, the kind of bruises that covered his body for three months now. He was surprised, however, when she groaned and collapsed, both hands to her side. It was a very surprised Mekefal who let his sword fall and caught her before she fell head first on the ground. He helped her down to her knees.

"Mekefal, are you mad, hitting so hard in practice?", Imloth shot him angrily.

The young drow immediately let go of Chama and stepped back, bowing his head in shame before his Commander's ire.

"He… he didn't!", Chama panted.

"Boss be injured!", Deekin screamed, jumping up and down in agitation. "Boss be injured!"

"You're bleeding," Nathyrra stated.

"An old wound," Valen noted in sudden understanding. "Did the Seer not heal you yesterday?"

"She did," Chama managed. "It seems the geas has something to say against the Seer's magic."

She stayed prostrated on her knees, clutching her weakly bleeding side, and it took Mekefal a gesture from his Commander to bring him to speak.

"My apologies. I hurt you, but it was not my intention."

She waved him off and he stopped. "Halaster hurt me. You just practiced with me. Now help me to my feet, please."

The soldier took her arm and she leaned hard enough on him. He pulled her to her feet, then she let go of his arm and steadied herself.

"Now you really see how easily I can be brought down," she addressed Valen and Nathyrra, with an icily controlled voice. "I wanted you to know this before we set off. But I tire of showing off my weakness. I have strength of a different type, and this is what I would show you now."

She turned to Imloth. "Do you have a combat dummy you can spare? Resistant and expandable if possible…"

Imloth grinned. "I think I know what kind of combat dummy you have in mind." He turned and pointed at something down by the riverside opposite the resting soldiers. "The mages usually use that rock over there for this purpose."

Chama smiled. "Well, that will do. I just need another few targets. Can you mark a few with paint, or some other trick?"

Imloth gestured one of his soldiers off, and the drow ran back after a while with a closed container holding red paint used for targets and combat dummies.

"Ten red dots on the ground there, around the bigger rock, please," Chama asked him.

He marked the ground in ten places, and then stepped back with the others. She started with a single cantrip, making a light appear over the bigger rock. In this light, it was obvious that the rock had seen much abuse by diverse spells. Chama cast another light over her own head. Deekin watched worriedly the patch of blood widening on Boss's abdomen. After her light spell, Chama cast something on herself that Valen could not recognize. He nudged Nathyrra by the elbow.

"What was that?"

"Light, then resistance."

Valen suffered what he thought of privately as the "show of sparks" stoically, without a comment about his boredom. Not being a mage, all he saw were sparks, glows and smoke when Chama cast spells. If not for Nathyrra who named all the spells for him – many of which seemed to repeat themselves, although he knew the difference between "Endure" and "Resist" must be of prime importance for spellcasters, he just could not bring himself to remember those trivial details – he could never have distinguished between the spells being cast.

Although, to be honest, he had to grudgingly admit to himself that the "show of sparks" lasted quite a bit of time, and he was almost sure that he had seen no one, not even the Seer, cast continuously so many spells from memory before.

Chama used Deekin, Nathyrra, Imloth and Valen as targets for her defensive spells. Valen ended up sheathed in thick, flexible and protective skins of stone. He was also surrounded by yellow specks of light that danced in the air about him; they felt at the same time soothingly warm and cool. And there was like an unearthly glow to his skin that was useful in resisting the effects of spells, Nathyrra informed him.

"Have I missed much?", a slow drawl asked just then over Nathyrra's shoulder, sounding slightly breathless.

Deekin, Nathyrra and Valen turned to see Gulhrys standing there behind them, his hair in disarray after what was obviously a dead run from the other side of Lith My'athar where he held his magical stand. Valen had to squish another upwelling of intense dislike for the High Wizard.

"She's exhausting her spells in order," Nathyrra exclaimed excitedly, "you've only missed two Lights, two Resistances, two Endure, two Resist and two Protection from elements, four Acid arrows and these four Fireballs."

The High Wizard nodded appreciatively and Nathyrra smiled to herself. The possibility of him inviting her because they were male and female, as Chama put it, was rising by the second.

"I saw the first Light, I think," Gulhrys whispered. "I thought it might be her casting without cheating, and after her demonstration of spellcraft, I was intrigued."

"With good reasons," Nathyrra agreed. "Look at her. She's not halfway through."

Gulhrys nodded. Valen frowned, wondering how the two mages knew how she was half through or not, but decided that it must have something to do with spellcraft.

Chama turned to address her team and hesitated slightly when she saw Gulhrys there. "This, Valen," she said, "is the basic state you will be in for any serious fight we pick, if I have the time to cast as I wish. For more powerful opponents, I would use a Protection from elements on you instead of a Endure elements."

Valen acknowledged with a bow of the head. She turned towards her rock again, and started another spell. The "show of sparks" went on for some time still, and the "special effects" notably became progressively more spectacular. Dire monsters appeared out of thin air above summoning circles glowing in baleful red; arrows of fierce fire burned against the bare surface of the rock for a few seconds before giving out; bluish white globes of searing energy arced through the air and thudded malevolently against the rock; protective spells fizzled out of existence with a strident noise of static; brown dust and black light unfurled and covered half the training grounds; and gigantic boulders of ice crashed down from the sky.

After the third Ice storm Chama cast, the practice rock suddenly gave way and fell backwards. Chama laughed.

"Giving up so soon, are you? I'm not done with you yet," she told her target.

In the assistance, Gulhrys let out a low whistle. "Whyever does she use a circlet and ring anyway?", he asked.

He exchanged a glance with Nathyrra, who was equably impressed.

"That be simple," Deekin said haughtily. "Boss be even better with circlet and ring. Boss be better than Old Boss even!"

Valen frowned and wondered who was this "Old Boss", but wisely decided that finding out was probably not worth the trouble of actually encouraging Deekin to speak.

"Another monster summoning," Nathyrra identified the next spell to be cast.

"Fine!", Valen exclaimed in exasperation. "I can recognize the monsters she summons."

"I have far too much fun at finally being able to match Gulhrys at something to stop now."

The wizard blushed, pleased at Nathyrra's flattery, but as arrogance can sometimes blind people, he did not see that she was mocking him more than a bit.

And still the "show of sparks" went on. When another volley of globes of pure energy pounded into the poor practice rock, it shook under the repeated impact, slanting further backwards.

Chama laughed. "I told you I was not done with you!"

After that Missile storm, Valen saw familiar fire curl between Chama's hands. He frowned slightly, wondering why she went back to the Fireball after casting those other, much more powerful spells. He was sure that Nathyrra had said she cast her spells in order, from the less to the most powerful.

Gulhrys gasped quietly. "She's squeezing it very dry."

Valen turned to Nathyrra with exasperated impatience, and she kindly explained, "She's pouring more power into that spell than a simple fireball. She's making it the most burning it will ever get."

Said fireball suddenly flew from her hands to crash into the rock with a deafening roar and a blinding flash of orange light. The heat wave rolled out and over to them. It felt like opening and leaning into the door of an oven to get the baked bread out.

"Another spell squeezed dry, an ice storm this time."

The stalactites of ice that fell from the sky were of gigantic proportions and the ground shook when they hit the solid rock that was the Underdark's floor.

The final spells that Chama cast were summons of elemental creatures, and this managed to catch Valen's attention fully. The first one was a huge elemental whose apparition made Valen blink a few times in surprised respect. The amount of power necessary to tear one of those proud creatures from its home plane was impressive. The next spell, however, left him truly baffled with admiration. As an outsider, he could recognize one of the elemental princes when he was faced with one. He swallowed nervously while Chama bowed respectfully to Zaaman Rul, Prince of Fire. The Prince grudgingly bowed slightly in answer and stood to the side while Chama concluded her demonstration.

"Your torture is at an end, don't worry," she told her practice target, which earned her a few laughs among the recruits.

"Greater missile storm, squeezed dry," Nathyrra announced for Valen's benefit. White light seeped into Chama, and again she threw her hands forward, and searing balls of white energy flew and buried themselves in the targets marked on the ground, the energy writhing ferociously against the unyielding surface of stone for a visible moment before fading away.

She bowed one last time to the Prince of Fire, saying something in a tongue Valen did not understand, and the proud creature spun as he disappeared.

Valen's baffled admiration was instantly swept away when she came back. She was relaxed, panting slightly, and her whole side was plastered with fresh blood. Valen noticed this with some alarm at the intensity of the writhing of his demon within; it was enraged and demanded more of her blood spilled for taunting him earlier. Valen reminded himself sternly that he had the power over the demon and forcefully visualized the iron door he had shut on half of his soul.

"Now I know why I use a circlet, and why I should not," Chama sighed, oblivious to his struggle. "I need the extra spells each day, but casting _tastes_ so much better without the twist in my mind."

Deekin was dancing from foot to foot in worry and excitation, but it was Nathyrra who dared to say, "You're bleeding badly enough, Chama."

The elf sighed, looking down at her side. "Yes, I guess I am. I tried a potion this morning, but it won't do."

"The Seer's magic helped you, didn't it?", Valen asked in an attempt at natural behaviour.

"It did."

"Then she can heal you again." Despite his words, the tiefling's eyes were edging dangerously towards yellow while he fixed with morbid satisfaction her sides heaving heavily. He knew she was at her most vulnerable, drained of magic like this, and with a wide patch of fresh blood on her clothes.

She took a step back, edging behind Gulhrys and hiding her side from Valen.

"I will go see her now," she said. "Valen, Nathyrra, Deekin, I will meet you again tomorrow morning, and I will see if the geas allows the Seer's magic to heal me tonight."

She turned to the High Wizard. "I hope you will be patient and tolerate that I keep you waiting for a while? I need to get healed and clean this."

"Of course, Chamaedaphne." Gulhrys bowed low. "Shall two hours suffice?"

She bit her lip. "No, a single hour should be enough."

"I will wait for you, Chamaedaphne."

She cast a glance at Valen, whose eyes had reverted to cerulean as soon as her blood was out of his sight, then back to Gulhrys. "I will see you later, then. Nathyrra, you remember my request?"

"Of course," the drow assured her warmly, and she followed her back to the temple. Valen stalked off towards the river, Gulhrys back to his stand, and Deekin stayed there, scratching his head and taking notes on a small notebook he kept at hand in his belt. Now that he knew that the nice drow seer would take care of Boss, he could take the time to take notes.

Imloth waited for everyone but the kobold to move out of hearing range. He called back his recruits who were resting by the riverside and waited until all of them were near.

"Now, I think all of you understood why it would be unwise to speak of the Blood Wars or a certain wizard's past to anyone?"

The soldiers nodded with a bland look. "Good. Now, Sharni, tell me how it is that Valen managed to disarm you, and what you should have done not to let him."


	7. Perspectives and Reactions

Chapter VI. Perspectives and reactions

When Chama finally arrived at the temple, half her dress was splattered in blood and she did her best to hide her painful panting. She swallowed back her disgust at being injured by a practice strike with a wooden sword. The Seer healed her in a moment.

"It's much better now," Chama said with a smile. "Thank you."

"Mother Seer," Nathyrra exclaimed, "she says the geas fights with your magic."

The elderly drow sighed. "That it does. I can quell the injuries for a time, but they come back until they are healed by the body, not by my spell."

"What does it matter anyway," Chama declared fiercely, "while adventuring you're always injured. I already feel the geas' harshness fading. I think I get used to it and it gets used to me."

The Seer agreed, and assured Chama she would monitor her condition regularly. Chama was only too happy to leave for the women quarters with Nathyrra and leaving behind the touchy subject of her fragile health. She strode into her room and poured some water in a bowl, then put a cloth in the water. Nathyrra sat on the bed, waiting for Chama to wash and change before she could pull her hair up.

Chama held her back on Nathyrra and played nervously with a hand in the bowl of water. She spoke with her back turned, and her voice was a bit strange.

"Nat, I know it sounds strange, but I don't like anyone to see me… I have scars and they embarrass me. Would you please turn around just for a short while?"

The drow lifted her eyebrows, but answered while she turned around, "Of course, but really, we all have scars. It doesn't really matter."

"Mine do to me."

Right away, there was nothing to answer to that placating statement. After a while, though, when water had finished splashing and Nathyrra heard the rustling of clothes being pulled on, she said tentatively, "As we travel, it might be hard to avoid seeing the others sometimes. I promise that I will not… notice your scars, if they bother you."

There was a long silence.

"I thank you for that, Nathyrra." Chama's voice was calm and soft, as though she was suddenly relieved of something. "Before you turn around, I just want to ask your honesty. Tell me what you really think of that dress to go have dinner with Gulhrys. Now you can turn."

Nathyrra grinned and whirled around.

"You know, seeing that he came halfway across Lith My'athar at a dead run to see you cast, I'd say the main reason why he invited you is that he's interested by the female at least as much as the mage – because he could tell what spells you used from over at his merchant stand."

She looked Chama over with a critical eye. As the mage had said, the robe had some style, with its black and red cloth, finely sewed epaulettes and a square neck that was modest enough without being sober. The black and red suited Chama's pale skin and dark hair.

"You need a necklace, but the robe itself is alright," she finally judged.

"Yesterday, I bought an amulet that will help me to learn tongues from Gulhrys. I'd like to wear it, I just hesitate because he wanted to give it to me at first, and well… this means something for my people."

Nathyrra cracked a smile of foreseen amusement. "What does it mean?"

"If a female wears a jewel a man gave her on an occasion when she goes specifically to see him, it means she loves him forever and ever."

Nathyrra smiled wryly. "Gulhrys is a smart man, but not overly worldly, so I wouldn't think he knows this particular custom of the elves. Besides, you did _buy_ the thing from him, didn't you? It's alright, you can wear it safely."

Chama buckled the amulet on.

"Unlike many magical items, this amulet is finely crafted and actually beautiful," Nathyrra remarked, admiring the amulet's design.

"It is. What do you think we should do with my hair?"

Nathyrra lifted a few strands, pulling them up experimentally, before she decreed, "I think I have an idea. Will you let me try?"

Chama nodded and sat at her dresser to let Nathyrra work on her hair. The drow twisted her mid-back locks up until there was a pile of loops of hair on top of her head, and she let the rest of her hair fall straight on her back.

"Like that, you don't even show your ears off too much. I think Gulhrys will get the message."

"Showing your ears off is a sign for drow?", Chama asked.

"Well… it's sexier to show your ears off."

Chama lifted an eyebrow. "Since we're both females I don't think I'll insult you, so I'll ask… You _always_ have your ears shown off. Does that mean you're always… shall we say… available?"

Nathyrra laughed. "No! You have to wear a decent hairstyle for that to mean anything. My adventuress' ponytail hardly qualifies as decent hairstyle."

Looking herself wryly in the mirror, Chama smiled. "It seems what drow qualify as 'decent' would be 'overly elaborate' in my culture, but I'm willing to try to fit through doors with that over my head."

Nathyrra looked slightly wounded, so Chama corrected hastily, "I like it, Nat, it's just drastically against everything I'm used to. I can see it fits me, and it's beautiful, but… I'll be self-conscious for a while with that pile of hair on top of my head."

A smile returned to the drow's lips. "I'm satisfied of my work. Let me look you over one last time, and then you're off to learn to cast in mermaid."

Chama stood and turned one way and the other to Nathyrra. "Very good," the drow approved. "Now, off with you!"

The two women came back into the temple's main room to find Imloth and Valen there, discussing, and Deekin speaking with a guard in a corner and taking notes. Again. Gulhrys, in a ceremonial robe with the insignia of his House and status polished and sparkling on his shoulder, waited by the door. The pin that identified him as the High Wizard even gave off a faint magical glow. He was impressive enough in this formal attire.

The high wizard curtsied to Chama who bowed back, and then he offered her his arm. She told Valen, Nathyrra and Deekin that she would meet them the next day in the morning, asked if one of them could get her clothes from the haberdashers, took Gulhrys's arm, and the two of them left the temple.

Valen growled something under his breath. Even if the tiefling was obviously irritated, Imloth's curiosity overwhelmed his sense of self-preservation and he dared ask him to repeat himself.

"What did you say?", the drow warrior inquired with feigned innocence.

"I just hope she doesn't get herself foolishly assassinated by the Mae'viir house," Valen snapped, "or that she doesn't worsen relations between the House and the Seer by making some stupid comment."

Imloth tried to soothe the tiefling. "She's not completely familiar with drow, but she has a quick tongue and knows how to use it. I doubt she'll make a stupid comment."

Valen heard well enough the unsaid in Imloth's sentence. She had been successful with words when facing an angry Valen, so his worries were partly assuaged, although he was even more irritated now.

"As I said, I hope so," the weapon master repeated harshly. "I guess I'll go get her clothes as requested and see how Rizolvir's doing on the recruits' equipment."

Valen stalked off. Nathyrra padded off conspiratorially to Imloth's side. Nobody noticed Deekin whose keen ears could pick off their conversations.

"I think they're a match," Nathyrra said as she elbowed Imloth gently.

"Gulhrys and Chamaedaphne?", Imloth replied, his silver eyes wide.

Nathyrra snorted. "Of course not. I mean Valen and Chama."

Imloth considered for a moment. "Well, it is true that she stands up to him, but as to see if they are a match, I wouldn't know. What makes you say that?"

"I mean a match in temper, experience and skill, Imloth, you gossip. Valen is always… harsh but held in check. He's a great warrior, but he knows nothing of spells and such. Besides, his past troubles him, but he tries to change. Chama strikes as much the same, yet different."

"Much the same?", Imloth inquired dubiously.

"And different, I said. She, too, has a troubled past, as far as I can tell, and it's as sensible a chord at it is for Valen – we all heard them this afternoon. She's a great wizard but can barely hold a sword. In the battle, I'm sure they'll complete each other well. I'm curious though, because Chama, in everyday life, is light and gentle most of the time, but you can feel that there is something else underneath. Like Valen; Valen is dour and serious, but you can feel that it's not all that he is – and his temper shows often enough. I'm curious to see how they'll deal with each other, having so much in common and so much not in common."

Imloth lifted an eyebrow at Nathyrra. "Who's gossiping now, starting rumours about their past and how they'll deal with each other?"

Nathyrra smirked. "I'm discussing things with you, only to have your opinion on the matter," she explained with feigned harmlessness. "If you start repeating this to your recruits, _that_ would be gossip."

Imloth shook his head. He might have laughed if he had not been raised in a world where males do not laugh of the jokes of the females.

"I don't know, Nathyrra. They only know each other for a day. I hope for your sake that they don't keep clashing like this afternoon all the time, otherwise you might end up taking a random fireball or a hit of a flail not meant for you. He is… part demon, and given to fits of temper. She… I don't know what she is."

Imloth kept to himself the coldness in her eyes that had reminded him of a handmaiden of Lolth for a second. Nathyrra thought for a while.

"I don't think it's in her veins," she said finally. "I think it's in her past."

The Seer suddenly appeared from behind the staircase leading up to the living quarters and stared at them sternly. Both gossips swallowed and waited to see if the Seer would comment.

"Their nature is theirs to reveal," the Seer finally declared in the regal manner that was her prerogative in Lith My'athar. "If you plan on speculating on it, please do so out of this temple and anyone else's ears. It will not do to have the leaders' personality questioned by the master of spies and the forces' commander."

Imloth and Nathyrra bowed obediently to the Seer before leaving the temple in contrite silence. The priestess of Eilistraee closed her eyes on a silent prayer for Valen and Chamaedaphne. Valen was already in her prayers for some time, and he was doing nicely. Chamaedaphne, however, was much more of a puzzle to the Seer. The priestess acted the unquestioningly trusting herald of her goddess in public for the sake of stability, but she was wise enough to see that Chama was not the perfect beacon of light that everyone would hope as a saviour. There were two attitudes in Chama – the light-hearted surface and the deepest motivations underneath. The Seer had a way to _read_ people, but the surface elf was beyond her ability to sense. She could feel the danger and balance that lurked beneath her light-hearted façade, but she could not sense its reasons or mechanisms.

Yet she needed to, because both Valen and Chama would need guidance, even regarding each other if she was to believe Nathyrra's views, and she could not advise either of them if she did not know how her advice would be met. She needed to pray.

ooooo

Much later, after many errands around Lith My'athar, a training lesson with Imloth's recruits, and a solitary ascension to the top of the Lone Peak – the settlement's watch post – Valen was back in his room, pacing angrily. He had just been forced to physically put that annoying kobold out of his way to his room to avoid his prying inquiries. He had not hurt the reptile, but had merely lifted him and put him down to the side.

But Valen was pacing angrily, recognizing privately to himself that his true emotion was trouble. It was just the infernal part of him taking advantage of his uncertainty to resurface with anger.

He paced in his room, his tail lashing from side to side, trying to make sense of this first day with the stranger. He tried to build in his mind only one picture of a surface elf who was their prophesized saviour; who had almost lost her mind to a circlet of intellect; who had summoned demons; who acted with light-heartedness; who had treated him without regard for his demon blood even if she was well aware of what being a tiefling meant; who had so carelessly hurt him by her assessment of the tanar'ri; who held all this magical power; who managed to get Gulhrys to invite her for dinner; who came through Halaster's dungeon with a kobold as companion; who avoided all the mad mage's tricks but fell to his geas.

He tried to decide how he felt about soon setting out the gates with her, in an attempt to strengthen their forces or weaken the Valsharess's. He was distrustful of the Seer's visions – especially since Chama had obviously not always been an angel. He was almost convinced that nothing could be done that would save them from the Valsharess's wrath. Yet he hoped that the Seer's vision was right and that Chama would prove their saviour.

Suddenly he heard the Seer cry out – his room was right next to hers, which was appropriate for her defender. His heart wrenched and he bolted out of the door to gather Nathyrra and Imloth – whatever had made its way to the Seer here in the safety of Lith My'athar's temple, he could not take it out alone.

The Seer could not die and leave him alone now. The Seer _must_ not die. He needed her so badly when he was tormented or tempted by the demon, but he also needed one person in the world to be kind to him; to be a friend to him. Even tieflings with a demon's blood have a vulnerable heart sometimes.

ooooo

That same night, alone in her dark and sumptuous room, Chama tossed restlessly into bed. She had just come back from her dinner with Gulhrys. He had flirted with her a bit like only a drow male could – subserviently and suggestively. She had tried to play his game without giving into it, and quickly enough he had seemed to understand the message and had changed the subject to more technical matters. She had been able to gather important information. But this was not what chased sleep away.

So much had happened. She found herself in the Underdark, held by geas to help the cause of these rebels, a mixed group of followers of Eilistraee and traditional drow Houses - with even a seer, a turn-coat Red Sister, a tiefling, a kobold and a surface elf among their ranks now. She knew their cause was good; followers of Eilistraee deserved help against Lolth's tyranny and the drow prejudice wherever they were. And the Valsharess needed to be stopped for the sake of Waterdeep's citizens.

And yet, Chama was not certain that, without the geas, she would have had the courage to do what she must. The Underdark exuded of evil. People here almost _expected_ her to be evil. She could join House Mae'viir's almost open treachery. She could butcher the roth beast for no other reason than put the shepherd in trouble. She could have killed a svirfneblin servant by forcing another beer down his throat. She could have put Imloth's recruit into trouble by letting his commander believe that he had hit her hard. Evil was more seducing in this forsaken place far from the light of the sky and, seemingly, out of sight of the gods themselves.

And it was not easy for her to admit to herself that she did not know what she would have done if the geas had not been there to force her at the Seer's side. She hoped she would have had the strength, but truthfully, she was not certain of her heart. She was so confused that her prayers to Mystra left her with a hollow feeling, as though the goddess was not listening, when it was surely the worshipper who could not speak clearly.

Chama held back bitter tears and forced her mind to review the training session, trying to chase uneasiness away by focusing on a more concrete purpose. It seemed she had no choice but Valen as her warrior. It was a bit hard though to coordinate the moves with both Nathyrra and Deekin into the fray. It would be more reasonable to choose only one of them. She liked Deekin very much and his Doom Song had an unexplainable – truly unexplainable – way to lift her spirits. Nathyrra, though, was a master in stealth and knew the Underdark like the back of her hand. Sensibilities put aside, Nathyrra was the most sensible choice.

Chama was half-calmed by then and reviewed in more detail the training session. Deekin she knew well, and did not concentrate on. Nathyrra, for her part, was what you would expect a drow assassin to be: lithe, quick, smart, silent and remorseless. Her ability to use the cover of shadows was impressive, and Chama knew that no one could quite rival with her when it came to scouting ahead. Valen, for his part, was about the same size as Daelan, with whom she had fought many battles, so at least she had an instinctive idea of which doors he would block and how hard he would be to knock off his feet. His fighting style was unknown to her though, but he seemed incredibly deadly with this monster of a weapon he carried around like a mere pebble. He was strong, quick, and tough, but he was not stupid or burned-headed.

A sickening feeling settled in the pit of her stomach while she contemplated his obvious strength and tall hands. He could lift her off with one hand and throw her aside easily. He could break her arm with a snap of his fingers. There was a savagery in his eyes despite his civil behaviour. She knew this attitude, this need for battle to vent some rage. He needed an outlet for violence on occasion, so he could maintain peaceful behaviour the rest of the time.

But regardless of the civil but distrustful behaviour, of the monstrous strength, of the savagery, he was a handsome man. And Chama did not allow men to be handsome to her eyes. But she could not stop herself from thinking this. And she was afraid of those thoughts. She was afraid of him – a cold feeling in the pit of her stomach, a visceral fear because of the weakness of her body and the strength of his – so how could she feel attracted to his features, this other aspect of his terrifying body?

She turned in her bed, agitated, trying to force her thoughts to something else than those questions without answers. In vain. She did not sleep much, and the sudden commotion outside her door, demanding her presence, was a relief rather than an interruption of sleep.

ooooo

The Seer was praying quietly, kneeling before her private altar adjacent to her quarters in Lith My'athar's temple. It was not the Spider Queen that inhabited her own temple now, though. It was the benevolent presence of Eilistraee who supported and guided the rebels, until the Valsharess was defeated and it was safe to escape to the surface.

The Seer was questioning her Goddess's wisdom. She tried in vain to order her thoughts and to present things differently, but honesty commanded that she recognized her doubts for what they were.

She took a while to think things through carefully, to calm and ready her mind for the prayer. And finally she opened her mind to Eilistraee.

_My Goddess, I do not understand your orders._

She waited and finally there was openness in her soul that had not been there the moment before. The goddess was listening.

_I have received visions of the stranger, who is meant to help us in our defeat of the Valsharess. I know what you have shown me, my Goddess, but still I am confused. The stranger, Chamaedaphne Indiwasi, is not what she seems. I cannot see past the distance she puts between herself and the others, but I see something dark in her._

_She is in conflict with herself. Her façade is that of a light-hearted darthirii, but a dark ocean runs deep beneath it. I cannot see through its depths. Her patterns of thoughts are alien to me. But I know her ocean is dark, terrible, and stirring._

_She is not at peace. I feel she walks on an edge now, and she could fall on either side: ours or the Valsharess'. I do not know that I can do anything to sway her, my Goddess. I understand that our lives are irrelevant, but the Valsharess must be defeated and, with Chamaedaphne allied with her, I doubt that it could ever happen. I merely ask for your reassurance or advice to make the stranger at peace._

The smell of incense was suddenly heady, and the Seer felt a heaviness cloud her mind. She sat back on her heels and closed her eyes. She relaxed her shoulders and breathed slowly, inhaling of the incense's smell, while she slowly slid in the trance.

She gradually came aware of the vision. It was dark and raining outside. She did not know where she was or what was happening. She only knew a consuming pain, a scalding humiliation, and devouring madness – a flash of Chamaedaphne's past, the stirring force at the bottom of the dark ocean. The Seer was helpless in her trance while she was victim at the same time as the surface elf to this unbearable suffering.

Suddenly it was gone, leaving the Seer to stare at the Underdark through Chamaedaphne's eyes. The Underdark was vast, dark, dry, dusty, and concealed a thousand unknown dangers. Chamaedaphne wondered if she could adapt and survive in this harsh and merciless world; she wondered if her frail resolve would hold against the evil that seemed to permeate the very air.

But then the trance deepened and the Seer steadied herself for what she recognized as the onset of a dizzying jump in the future.

Time expanded like a ribbon of swirling colours and magical energies, before it shrunk back into focus in another time and place. A strange woman stood. She was frail and winged, her frame reminiscent of the Avariel, but her eyes held a fierce coldness that left no place for compassion. Chamaedaphne was facing the strange creature; she was clad in a robe of terrible power and was half-displaced from the tapestry of existence. The winged woman called Chamaedaphne the Light of Cania and welcomed her.

Time strewn out again in a dizzying blur, the harsh winged creature stepping back in the mists of time, and Chamaedaphne stepped forward through it, followed by Valen – it surprised the Seer to see the tiefling suddenly appearing in her vision – and a ghost who had been part-elven in life. There was much rage and sorrow, though, in this ghost, so much that the Seer could feel it through her vision, and she turned away from it lest she lose her focus on Chamaedaphne.

Valen and Chamaedaphne were facing each other now, amidst the swirling of time running past. There was a strange understanding between them. There were tall tails of flying energy emerging from their back, deployed behind them like great wings; on these wings were painted their past and torment. Valen's guilt was in the form of sneering devils and raging demons, of destruction and chaos without measure or reason. Chama's remorse took the face of magically silenced men screaming and of their spraying blood. But the images were wearing thin as they looked at each other; their features were quiet and peaceful as they looked at each other.

The darkness from their past was pushed away by each other's presence, and the great light and goodness in their souls was called to the surface. They were each other's solace.

Suddenly, the trance broke and the Seer was back in her body, shaking and drenched in sweat. Her body was still hurting from the first part of the dream, and she did not trust herself to stand.

It was not necessary. The door abruptly burst open and Valen was there, his flail free, with Chamaedaphne behind him, a spell ready at the tip of her fingers. Imloth and Deekin were there too, dire mace and crossbow held fiercely.

"No traps," a disembodied voice stated.

The group stepped in and soon Nathyrra appeared visibly to the Seer, in a corner full of shadows.

"Mother Seer! What happened?", Nathyrra exclaimed.

"Just a vision, Nathyrra."

"A trying one, Seer, it seems," Valen said, eyeing her sweating brow pointedly.

"Very trying, my good Valen, but the Goddess needed to tell me something important."

Valen hooked his flail, looking harshly at his companions. They bowed and left at the silent dismissal ordered by the tiefling. Imloth exchanged one last look with the Seer before leaving her in Valen's company.

"Do you require assistance, Seer?", he asked gently.

The Seer nodded. Valen strode to her in his full armour, bent and lifted her in his strong arms. She slid her arms around his neck so he could carry her more easily, and abandoned herself gratefully to his care. He took her back to her living quarters and gently laid her down on the bed, before straightening and asking, "Do you need anything?"

There was something stormy in Valen's eyes, and his tail was twitching nervously.

"No, Valen, thank you. But tell me, what is troubling you?"

Valen startled, then stared down at her with a mix of indignation and anger. He tried to keep silence, but it was no use trying to resist the Seer's gentle inquiries. He sighed and blurted out, "It's the stranger."

The Seer gave an inward sigh. Valen was not the only one troubled by the stranger, and she was still unsure what her vision meant. It would be delicate to advise Valen in that domain.

"What has she done to trouble you, Valen?"

The tiefling sighed and started pacing slowly. "I would have thought either Nathyrra or Imloth would have gossiped everything back to you by now," he started with dry humour.

The Seer chuckled softly. "They did say that you two 'clashed' this afternoon, but gave no details. Do you wish to explain to me why you are troubled?"

Valen sighed, stopping his pacing to stare back at the Seer. "How is it possible that she knows so much about me without ever meeting me before?"

"What does she know about you?"

"What happened exactly is that she recognized my battle cry when we were training. She knew it was of the tanar'ri and, seeing that I'm obviously a tiefling, and she knows what a tiefling is, she just supposed I'd learned to fight in the Blood Wars."

"A simple enough assumption, Valen," the Seer reminded softly, "but it does not define all of you."

"It's not supposed to, no," the tiefling retorted. "She said she had summoned demons before, and made quite a short but effective summary of my kind's characteristics – the taste for destruction and the careless chaos. She said she spied on Belial for a while and knew what I surely did in the Blood Wars."

"Surely she did not just say this without reason, just like that," the Seer protested, appalled.

Valen glowered at the Seer, but he was wise enough to be honest and not petty. "No. It was after I accused her of foolish ambition for summoning demons. She said she would not say what she knew I did, if I did the same about the demons she summoned."

The Seer sighed. Time was ripe for a little discreet guidance, it seemed. "Valen, she might have made a simple mistake when she spoke of the Blood Wars to you. She must not have realized it was as uncomfortable a subject to you as the summoning of demons is to her."

Valen sighed angrily. How could the Seer be so perceptive? It would be less embarrassing if Nathyrra or Imloth had told her that Chama had concluded the episode by precisely that, "let's not speak of the uncomfortable past, let's be allies in the present".

"Maybe, Seer," Valen conceded, "but that's not what's troubling me. How could she know so much about me when she just met me? Am I really so predictable? Am I so much of the demon that I can be described and handled as a simple tanar'ri? Am I still such a snarling beast of the Abyss, despite everything I've done and everything I've learned since you looked into my soul, that she doesn't even need to ask me who I am to already know it? She was so sure, Seer, and more disturbingly, so _right_ about the Blood Wars. She seems to know quite well what a demon is. Will she ever see me as something else than a demon? Will people ever see more in me than the part that is infernal, whatever I do with my life? Is it as a blood-thirsty demon that she wants me to fight by her side? As a killing machine that will dismember anything she orders me to without second-thoughts?"

Valen's voice was getting progressively rougher, his heart exposed with each sentence. The Seer had claimed back some of her forces by then, and was sitting in her bed, listening intently. The goddess's vision seemed much clearer all of a sudden, and she understood why Valen had been in her vision. He was in it because he could make Chamaedaphne more at peace with her past, as she had seen in her vision, but also because Chamaedaphne could make him more at peace with himself. And the Seer had asked her goddess for a way to put the stranger's heart at peace so she would keep to their side. Her vision came down to the knowledge that she had already done much in that direction, just by taking Valen in three years ago.

She was not afraid of Chama's choice anymore. She thanked her goddess silently, and then lifted a delicate hand to halt Valen. He quieted obediently, looking at her with deeply troubled and sad eyes.

"No, Valen, I am sure she does not see only the demon in you. You have to remember that she, too, has a past of which she is not proud. I am certain she understands you, and you should understand her. I think, Valen, that she knows what you have done, but does not care. I think she wishes a warrior who will defend her in the most physical aspects of the battle. She wishes a warrior who is experienced enough to survive in the difficult battles that she knows are to come. She wishes for a worthy comrade in arms to help her in her quest. I think she _trusts_ you to be this faithful and powerful ally, even though she knows what the demon within you has made you do in the past."

Valen turned her words in his head for a while, before he declared unhappily, "You have troubled me even more, Seer, but I thank you. I know you were trying to give me kind words, but still I am unsure. I truly hope you are right about the stranger. I know I sound distrustful, but I cannot _believe_… I can only hope."

"That is well, Valen. Forgive me, but I need to rest now."

"I'm sorry, Seer, for keeping you from your rest for so long. Again, thank you for your kind ear."

Valen bowed and left quickly, in a clinking of this new armour that Chamaedaphne had given him.


	8. Setting off finaly

_Hello! Here's this week's chapter… as always, please leave me a few reviews :)_

Chapter VII. Setting off finally

Chamaedaphne, Valen, Nathyrra and Deekin had to stay another day at the temple because of Chama's injuries, but she used the time to strengthen her position as a leader and train with them. They practiced more battle strategies and again Chama made her little showdown of exhausting all of her spells on the badly abused practice stone. She discussed further what needed to be done to stop the Valsharess with Valen, Nathyrra and Imloth.

Chama purposefully and, to Nathyrra's admission, skilfully avoided any questioning for all the duration of the morning. At lunch, not able to keep her nosy inquiries for herself any longer, the assassin asked Chama how things had gone with Gulhrys, even if Valen and Deekin were there.

Nathyrra half-expected a scorching glare, but got a small amused smile and a shrug instead.

"Gulhrys was true to his word and I was true to mine," the elf answered lightly. "He was rather amused by my account of Deekin's antics."

"Deekin's _antics_?", the kobold exclaimed, clearly wounded.

"Deekin, you know what I mean." She tried to pat the bard's head, but he mumbled something under his breath and moved away moodily. "You know, how you're too excited about the tales and the tragedy to pay any attention to the dangers. I call that antics, but that's courage."

Valen ground his teeth and looked away, grunting in annoyance and thinking to himself that the sheer obviousness of that statement could not possibly work out, but the kobold suddenly beamed at his "Boss" with his small pointed teeth. Nathyrra hid her laughter behind a delicate hand.

"Don't try to change the subject," the drow interjected. "Gulhrys?"

Chama laughed. "He's quite the gentleman, if you must know. He's also very smart, but his intelligence is bent only on his own advancement. He really has a natural ability to learn and teach tongues. It was a pleasant dinner, but I'm afraid I have nothing but dull wizardries to recount, unless you speak sssrathlisss and I could repeat a few jokes he made. I'm afraid they lose some interest if spoken in another tongue."

Nathyrra had sobered, and Valen wondered what was going on. Catching his frown, the drow signalled him discreetly to keep silence.

"Maybe you'd explain it to me privately?", Nathyrra asked.

"I think I can do that," Chama answered with a grin.

"Valen, would you escort us to the temple?", Nathyrra asked him. "We've got a heavy enough package from Rizolvir to carry."

Valen shrugged. "I am yours to command."

"And, Deekin?", Nathyrra added, turning to the bard.

"Yes, drow lady?"

"I'm sure a bard would like to hear this. It could be such an inspiration for a comic play."

The kobold nodded enthusiastically. The four of them made their way to the temple and Nathyrra requisitioned one of the private antechambers. She closed the door, and then checked around carefully.

"Alright, we're not listened to," she declared curtly. "Now spit it out, Chama."

Chama smiled at the impatient eagerness of her companion. "Well, since Gulhrys and I were sitting in the middle of the dining room with a dozen other drows of House Mae'viir, I can't exclude the possibility that he was lying to me, but he said that not a stupid oaf of his house could identify sssrathlisss, much less understand it. He doesn't strike me as the kind of man with a natural ease to perform, though, so I'm inclined to believe he was saying the truth."

"We'll judge the likelihood of what he said later," Nathyrra interrupted tersely. "For now, I want a report."

"A _report_?" Valen snapped. "Nathyrra, don't tell me you put her up to this? I was counting on you to warn her!"

"Hush, Valen," the drow answered, waving her hand impatiently at him.

His eyes flickered to red only briefly, but still he spoke through gritted teeth, "I won't be ignored, Nathyrra. Didn't you warn her not to speak of politics while in the House Mae'viir?"

"She _did_ warn me, Valen," Chama retorted, not letting Nathyrra the time to answer. "However she agreed with me that, should the occasion present itself, it would be too good to miss not to learn a little more from inside the House Mae'viir. Gulhrys is really a lovely character, by the way; he outlined very neatly his plan to flee and offer his highly-sought-after services to another House if ever the house or the war turned against him. Lucky him that he's civil and learned in spellcraft, I might have left him to finish his dinner alone after he'd said that."

Valen receded grudgingly into silence. Much as he disliked the idea of Chama risking being discovered gathering intelligence inside House Mae'viir, both women were right: the occasion was too good to miss.

"Did Gulhrys say anything about Matron Myrune?", Nathyrra inquired.

"He said that she was a traitor that planned to sell Lith My'athar out to the Valsharess."

"Ah, the makings of a classical tragedy…", Deekin babbled happily, taking out his notes again.

Chama spared him a glance, then to Valen who could be heard grounding his teeth, but went on undisturbed. "Gulhrys said Matron Myrune was not ready to act right now, that she was waiting for the Valsharess' move. By the way, there's something I should probably tell you. While I was in the public house yesterday with Valen, speaking to the haberdashers, there was a female behind me that was desperately trying to get my attention and have me talk to her."

"That's Matron Myrune's only heir," Valen informed her. At Chama's raised eyebrow, he shrugged. "I had noticed her too, but thought no good could come out of that knowledge at the moment."

Chama agreed with a nod, and then commented with a wry smile, "I'm not that fond of politics, but this whole affair seems like a dangerous succession underway, doesn't it?"

"It does," Nathyrra concurred. "The Valsharess' opponents that are not devoted to Eilistraee are still drow Houses by the tradition, I'm afraid."

"I'll talk to this heir… but not right away. I'd prefer to do something else for the camp before I meddle in a touchy succession."

Valen quirked an eyebrow. She was showing adequate judgement of the situation again, and was wisely checking where she stuck her toes. Good so far for the Seer's visions.

They trained together again that afternoon.

ooooo

The next morning, the geas was not rebelling so hard against the Seer's magic, and Chama was completely healed. It was the morning, and the time to set off if she wished to. She looked at Nathyrra, Valen and Deekin who were awaiting her orders patiently and froze for a while. She was about to lead the two most powerful warriors of the camp off on some dangerous mission. They had better come back alive – especially Valen – otherwise it was over for the Seer and her rebels.

She set her shoulders. It was the first time that so many people depended on her and that she was determined to do something for them, and not only for her own foolish quest for power.

_Let's find out how I bear the pressure_, she thought to herself.

"To the Isle of the Maker," she decided. "Imloth made me realize yesterday that a golem would be a very good thing to have around if we ever have to fight illithids."

Valen and Nathyrra approved, while Deekin nodded, as always silently following his boss's orders. But then Chama turned to the kobold.

"Deekin…"

"Deekin?"

"We can't go all four. It's too many, too hard to coordinate."

"Boss doesn't want Deekin anymore! What did Deekin do? Is it when Deekin annoyed Goat-man?"

Valen growled. He was not a beast. Couldn't the little _monster_ refrain from referring to him using an animal's name?

"No, Deekin, it's not that I don't want you anymore. I need Valen to come with me because he can take the brunt of a fight."

"Goat-man not as nice as Orc-man." The kobold tugged at Chama's sleeve until she lowered her head and he whispered conspiratorially. "Boss be careful around Goat-man."

At that Chama chuckled. "I don't know yet. And I need Nathyrra because she can be my guide in the Underdark. She knows all the secret passages. But, Deekin, I need your help too, but here in Lith My'athar."

"Yes? What does Boss want Deekin to do?" The bard looked distinctly sulking and unhappy, convinced that she was just trying to find an excuse to leave him behind.

She knelt and gestured him to come closer so she could whisper in his ear.

"Deekin, I need you to boost the morale around camp. You need to be careful, though, not to sing the same thing to the followers of Eilistraee and to the drow of House Mae'viir."

"Yes, the Doom Song! Deekin will…"

"No, Deekin, not the Doom Song. That certainly boosts _my_ morale, but that's because I know you and like you. I would like you to sing all the songs you know about heroes. Do you know songs about Drizz't or other drow heroes?"

"Deekin knows many songs about Drizz't and Wulfgar and Cattie-Brie and…"

"Yes, yes, that will do when you sing for the followers of Eilistraee. Deekin, sing them all the songs you know about heroes. If there are people from House Mae'viir, sing about war and conquest and strength of arms. I want the public house of Lith My'athar to be resonating with glorious adventures for the two following days."

"Deekin can do that…" The kobold was looking distinctly alarmed though.

She corrected hastily, "But don't forget to eat and sleep a bit, alright?"

"Deekin can do that too." Now he looked relieved and she smiled.

"And if I don't come back in two days, I want you to start singing about Undrentide."

"Boss' adventures?"

"Yes, but only in two days, alright?"

The kobold nodded enthusiastically and hurried out of the temple with his harp under his arm. Valen watched him go warily, wondering what unexpected, unexplainable, and _weird_ evil was afoot. Nathyrra just looked, intrigued.

"A mission in public relations," Chama explained succinctly. "He's surprising, but he's rather good at singing."

"You asked him to _sing_?", Valen let out in disbelief and exasperation.

"Yes, he'll sing of great adventures. The taste of despair hanging in the air is almost heavier than in Neverwinter at its worst. Something needs to be done about it."

"You were in Neverwinter?" Valen was the one to ask, being more familiar with surface affairs than Nathyrra, embroiled in drow politics and intelligence.

"Yes, I was… I have few good memories of the plague-ridden city. Now, shall we go?"

Valen shrugged, accepting her awkward change of subject, and the three companions were out to speak with Cavallas.


	9. First Adventures

Chapter VIII. First adventures

The Isle of the Maker was taken care of surprisingly quickly and safely. Among Chama's hidden talents that Valen had no way of guessing beforehand, there were the thief's small lithe fingers able to disarm traps that her quick and watchful eyes detected flawlessly.

With her elven piercing eyes, she did not even need to slow down to detect traps that he might have missed even if concentrating solely on that. She realized early enough that he was keeping watch for traps and told him that she would take care of that herself.

He made a side mental note to ask her about this unexpected set of talents later – he hoped it would not count as the kind of inquiry about her past that she did not want to answer to.

Chama was also very quick to understand what was going on and to stir them in the direction opposite to that of the scavenger golem and closing doors safely behind them.

While they discovered the different rooms, Chama took the time to finger through the different books and look about for anything interesting. Valen saw her gathering books and other seemingly insignificant items like a round crystal globe and a small statue bearing no enchantment. He agreed, however, that the different golem body parts they found were worth studying and accepted readily to transport them in his pack, despite their weight.

Eventually, they found their way to a large circular room filled with golems and minogons. Once the constructs were beaten, Chama examined carefully the panel that stood in the middle of the room.

"Simple enough control room," she decreed lightly. "Let's see if I can get it to work for our uses."

She examined carefully the magical runes inscribed on the central panel and on each side. Valen and Nathyrra observed her with interest.

"Ah, it's even simpler than I thought," she finally exclaimed.

She pressed the left panel and the number "one" appeared out of thin air in front of her. It was marked in the form of magical, yellow lightning running between magical globes hanging in the air. Chama hit the left and right panels until "54" was hanging above her head. She checked something in one of the books she carried.

"That should do it; that seems to be the scavenger golem's controlling number. Just in case something turns awry, Valen, would you stand in front of the control panel please?"

Valen stepped in. Chama pressed the central panel. The scavenging golem appeared. Valen took his run-up with his flail, Chama quickly pushed the button again and the golem collapsed in a heap of undead flesh, metal gear and supple fabric cloths.

"Well done," Nathyrra commented.

"That should make our life easier… well, for the next hour that is, until we're done here and have to move on deeper."

Valen found himself smiling slightly in spite of himself. _Concentrate on your immediate objective, but never lose sight of your ultimate goal_, his infernal masters had taught. Apparently, this surface elf had learned quite the same wisdom.

ooooo

They explored the first level, finding many powerful magical items after a fight with no other than the spirit of Chama's weapon, Enserric. They reached the second level quickly, after Chama used the control room again to disable the last guardian golem standing before the door to the second level. They explored around a bit and, after they had spoken to both Aghaaz and Ferron, Chama called a pause in the middle of the central room. She looked unhappily from one team-mate to the other.

"What shall we do now?", Nathyrra asked with her silky voice.

"Neither faction will hear reason, I think," Chama sighed.

"I doubt that," Valen concurred.

"Then, what do I decide? I either destroy Aghaaz, a sentient being set on waiting for the return of his maker, or I destroy Ferron, another sentient being, set on trying to overcome what he is. Either way, I commit an evil. Either way, I decide who lives and who perishes, and I act with them as did the Maker, and I almost take the role of a goddess in their finite world."

There was a dark cast present in her voice that chilled them, even if both Valen and Nathyrra had seen much in their lives. To Valen it sounded like the guilt of a long-carried burden. It sounded like she spoke out of experience. He uneasily shifted his weight from foot.

Nathyrra finally gave her opinion. "I understand your dilemma, but you should remember the bigger picture here. If by doing this, we can save the Seer and everyone in Lith My'athar, then maybe it's worth it."

Chama's face was impossible to read under the skins of stone and helmet, but it seemed to her companions that her voice hardened.

"Well reasoned, Nat, but still reasoned pragmatically. I know the idea of a good balancing for an evil is attractive, but it is too easy to twist to fit every whim. And... nothing should make a sentient being's life less meaningful."

Nathyrra lifted an eyebrow, but said nothing. Such discourse was rarely upheld by _anyone _in the Underdark. Valen felt strange all of a sudden; such idealism was totally alien to him – even the Seer was not philosophically so zealous – and it sounded strange after a voice so heavy of a violent past close to the surface.

"But I guess," Chama decided at last, her voice sounding reluctant, "that if we do nothing they will fight each other until there is nothing left. The lesser evil it is then."

When it was obvious that neither Nathyrra nor Valen were sure what she meant, she added, "Well, considering that I trust both Ferron and Aghaaz to hold their word and assist us in the battle against the Valsharess, my best guess would be that the lesser evil would be to end the war quickly – so that less golems will perish in the process – and to end it in favour of Ferron's faction – because he strives to become more than a witless servant."

Nathyrra shrugged, and Valen turned towards Aghaaz's part of the dungeon of the Maker. They made their way to him, Chama informed him of her decision, and battle ensued.

ooooo

The golems of Ferron's faction let them go down to the Maker's chambers. Valen, when he saw the two mithral golems and how Chama walked past them without waking them because she had spoken to the ghost of the Maker's apprentice, was suddenly very grateful of her lock picking and trap disarming skills. Just before she opened the door, though, Nathyrra and Chama cast many enhancing spells on him.

The spells were not wasted. The Maker had turned as many obsessed magic users turned: he had taken the path to become a lich, and had progressed further, becoming a demi-lich. The three adventurers looked at each other, a bit intimidated to be faced with one of the most powerful undead creatures of the realms, but Chama walked forward to speak with him, and expectedly he proved unreasonable and hostile.

Once the battle was over, Valen stood to the side, watching, still bursting with an energy that was not his own, itching to use all this power Nathyrra and Chama had poured into him. He just paced restlessly, his tail lashing nervously. Chama sat, patiently studying the many tomes of the Maker, occasionally lifting her head to observe important parts of the strange magical apparatus that the Maker had readied.

Nathyrra was looking disbelievingly at the lich's skull, checking twice the magical properties Chama had said it would carry. Chama was right, by all accounts, the assassin found.

"I've decided what I'd make it do," Chama suddenly declared, snapping her book shut and getting up to look at the magical apparatus before her. "Let's see if I understand this Maker's notes right."

Valen had already put the golem parts down on the table, so he turned to watch their prophesized saviour move to it warily. She uttered a word of command, holding the strange amulet they had found on the Maker's body, and the spell conducts suddenly flipped on, humming in barely audible frequencies that resonated within their chests. Valen looked at Chama's face turning into a mask of utter concentration as she unrolled a magical parchment, held it in front of her and started to read it.

Her voice seemed to expand and resonate with another voice, more distant and eerie, and her figure shimmered slightly, just like the horizon in the distance in the heat of the Abyss. Finally, the incantation was over and, with a single point of the finger, the shimmering that had been hovering over her condensed and rushed to the spell conduct.

The pillar-like structure, which had looked very mundane to Valen's untrained eyes, suddenly lit from within and diffused a pearly white glow in the dark room.

Calmly, still wearing her mask of concentration, Chama made her way around the table, casting a spell on each of the conducts. Valen had no way to tell which spells those were, but the effects were slightly different each time. He was sure, however, that no spell had been quite as powerful as the first one she cast.

At the end, slightly shaking from so much powerful spells in so little time, she stood in front of the golem now assembled on the table. She used the amulet of the Maker one more time, and the creature rose in an eerie silence.

Valen was very conscious of his breathing at the moment. The golem stood, towering four feet above Chama's head, unmoving, his eyes glowing yellow. Finally, the construct made a few steps to the side, then to the other.

"It's easy enough to order around," Chama commented in an absent-minded tone of voice. "Just standard mental commands, only in a much looser bond than with a familiar. It will follow orders from whoever wears the controller amulet."

There was a noticeable silence, and finally Valen murmured, his deep voice carrying in the empty silence of the Maker's chambers, "You are a wizard."

Chama turned to him, blinking. It was an apology and a flattery of a sort, and Chama understood very well. _Accepted_, she thought to herself, bowing her head slightly at Valen who stared back at her with an unreadable look.

ooooo

"Hey Imloth!", Nathyrra called as she elbowed him slightly. "Have you seen our newest ally?"

The drow commander nodded, waving the recruits he was training away. "Yes, Nathyrra. I have seen the golem when you were going to the temple earlier. I'm glad you brought back so formidable an ally."

"It's not over! This one's just a mindless construct that's under Chama's control and will fight according to her orders. We found sentient golems on the Isle of the Maker, and we managed to make them allies in the battle against the Valsharess. I'm here to tell you so, so you will send them a message when the Valsharess is on the move. They need a day to come here, they said."

Imloth nodded his understanding.

"Now," Nathyrra went on, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial whisper, "do you know she's starting to make him melt?"

Imloth looked about nervously for any sign of the Seer or any other within hearing range.

"Valen? Melting?", he repeated incredulously.

"Positive. You remember how she said he was a fighter and meant it as compliment? Well, after she assembled the golem, he said 'You are a wizard'. And he hasn't shouted at me or her of the whole time we were on that Isle."

Imloth smiled despite himself, and then finally chuckled. "Well, it seems they have kept from clashing long enough for you to survive the trip to that Isle and back. I hope it goes on so. Our army is hard pressed enough as it is, we don't need Valen and Chama killing each other."

Imloth looked over at his recruits training with the long bow and let out an inaudible sigh. They were good people, all of them, but they lacked time to train, and the army was not ready to face the Valsharess.

"Don't brood so much, Imloth," Nathyrra suddenly said, putting a hand on his shoulder, following his regard. "We have a new ally against the Valsharess. Chama will find others. She truly is what the Seer hoped for. She's powerful and she will help us."

A strange look crossed Imloth's face, but Nathyrra did not push further. She smiled and left the commander to brood for himself. Chama could do more than just weakening the Valsharess's army and finding new allies. She could appease Valen and make sure he did not kill anything that stood in his path in a fit of demonic rage.

Imloth had seen Valen in the heat of battle once before, three months ago. He had slaughtered legions of drow allied with the Valsharess with his eyes lit red from within. The tiefling had been in such a battle rage that he had almost killed one of their own, with just one careless and unrepressed move of his flail. The sight of the fallen follower of Eilistraee was the only thing that had snapped him back to reality in time to call the retreat of the army and save what could be saved of the rebel forces. Valen had been crushed, Imloth could tell; he had hid it and assumed the responsibilities of the army's new leader, but it had resurfaced when they arrived in Lith My'athar. The Seer had waited for Valen, declaring he was in great danger. Everyone had heard and understood. Since then, Valen had never completely lost temper again; he had been badly irritated at times, but never truly enraged. But Imloth was acutely aware that this state of affairs held only so long as there was no battle involved. There was something in the chaos of large scale battle that was almost impossible to resist for Valen's demon half.

Imloth still wondered uneasily what would have come to pass during the battle if a swing of a flail too full of rage had not knocked a young follower of Eilistraee unconscious.

If Chama managed to make Valen keep his cool in the heat of battle, she would have made her part in the coming battle against the Valsharess. Imloth would be grateful to her.

ooooo

That night, alone in his quarters at the back of the temple, Valen lay sleepless in his bed. He reflected on what had happened on the Isle of the Maker. It was the first time that he met a demi-lich; it was one of the most powerful undead creatures one could meet on the planes. Valen was surprised how little his flail accomplished against the magically floating skull that made up the physical support of the creature. The skull was magically resistant, yes, but the little he accomplished was also due to the quickness of the creature's death, dealt by volley after volley of blue globes of pure energy, by massive fall of ice boulders after scorching balls of fire. Valen had been boosted by stoneskins, a cantrip to allow him to resist more hardships, a shield against elemental damage, a spell to make him stronger, and a potion of speed. He was so overpowering, protected by all this magical energy poured into him by Chama and Nathyrra, that he actually had the time to listen to what was happening behind him as he swung his flail into the demi-lich's face.

So he knew that most of that raw magical power was coming from Chama; the vast majority, in fact, as it had been hinted to by her showdown in training. Nathyrra was not concentrating all her efforts on becoming a mage. In fact, right now she was putting her efforts in becoming a better assassin. It was the first time that Valen was in contact with such a powerful spellcaster as Chama. The demons and devils were more physical fighters, with the most powerful having magical resistances seeped into their skin and bones, and a little power over elemental energies present in their realms. There was also Gulhrys, the High Wizard of House Maeviir, of course, but the man had never cast a spell in Valen's presence.

Valen admitted grudgingly to himself that he was impressed.

He reflected on what they had done of their first day of adventures together. They had acquired the golems' help, and had assembled one for their own purposes – again, Chama's craft more than anything else. But there was more to this first day than that.

Chamaedaphne Indiwasi – it was disturbingly easy to call her Chama, he found – was a competent adventurer, there was no doubt to that. He was not ready yet to let go of his negative prejudices towards the Seer's visions, but this mission had forced him to admit that she was a worthy adventurer. More than that, she appeared a woman of strong convictions, and Valen had not known many people of this type. It was peculiar, however, this dark past she seemed to carry around, and at times he thought he could see it weight her shoulders down.

He wondered for a time if his own actions seemed to weight him down to other people's eyes, but decided he preferred not to try to answer to that. He veered his thoughts back on track.

He was unsure if he trusted Chama's good-heartedness. He was not a creature of duplicity like the drow, but he was not stupid, and his time in the Underdark had shown him more than enough treason to give him a minimum of carefulness and reserve.

He trusted Chama to guard his back in battle, but he would watch the Seer's back in Chama's presence, he decided. And with that point resolved in his mind, he finally fell asleep, and dreamed troubled dreams of mistrust, overpowering darkness and heavy pasts.


	10. The Beholder Hive

Chapter IX. The beholder hive

The next morning, the team plus Deekin was sitting at a table at the public house after having what drow considered food fit for breakfast – what Chama had declared inwardly belonging to either one, or a combination of, three categories: slimy, smelly, or still moving. Chama waited until they finished the last bits of food and checked their packs one last time before she made her announcement.

"I think we should go for the beholders."

"Why so, Chama?", Valen inquired. "It would seem a natural sequel to our actions to go the other island, would it not?"

"It would, but we appear to be lacking time and I think it better to set priorities. My opinion is that, for now at least, it is more important to weaken the Valsharess's allies than to find new allies for ourselves. Undead are a pain, but a minor pain. Mind flayers are difficult to sway. Beholders are a plague; they kill with spells and can stop our magic. Our enemies being such, I would surmise beholders are the easiest but worse threat to be dealt with."

"Seen this way, it makes sense," Valen shrugged. "To the beholders then."

Nathyrra watched, amazed. He was not yelling at Chama. He was not rebelling. He was agreeing. He was being ordered around. Well, not exactly, but still. The drow assassin stayed silent, observing with a strange fascination the queer, tense yet soothing byplay between the two of them. Suddenly, Chama turned to Deekin.

"How is your singing doing, Deekin? Do people start to cheer?"

"Deekin thinks that drow can never cheer," the bard observed with a strange wisdom. "But drow don't glare at Deekin when Deekin sings. Drow start glaring when Deekin stops singing."

Chama patted him on the head and grinned in obvious triumph at Valen and Nathyrra, who looked at each other briefly in disbelief.

"That's good, Deekin," Chama congratulated warmly. "Sing to them about heroes and triumph for another day. Tomorrow, if I'm not here, start singing about Undrentide."

"Deekin remembers. Boss can count on Deekin. Deekin loves to sing about Boss's adventures!"

Chama smiled at him. "You know, Deekin, I think that people like to hear what you sing when you love to sing about it."

"Yes, Deekin knows." The kobold nodded wisely.

Chama patted him on the head one last time, and then she turned to Nathyrra.

"Do you agree to go for the beholders?"

"Of course. As a spellcaster, I am particularly aware of the danger that they represent as an ally of the Valsharess."

After one last encouraging comment to Deekin, to tell him not to worry too much about drows' glares, Chama and her companions left the public house. When they reached the outer gates of Lith My'athar, Chama asked Nathyrra to scout ahead a bit, under the cover of shadows. The drow nodded and disappeared, melting into darkness ahead, and Valen was left alone with Chama.

"Might we speak?", he asked.

"Certainly, Valen. What would you like?"

Chama felt his intense blue eyes boring into her and stared back at him blandly, bracing herself inwardly for what would come.

"I wish to know what makes you so special?"

Chama blinked. This was not exactly the kind of question or comment she had been expecting. Valen was painfully serious and there was no way to mistake his manners for flattery.

"What do you mean?", she asked flatly.

"I speak, of course," he answered a bit disdainfully, "of the fact that you have replaced me as the leader of our forces. I have kept us alive for months, and suddenly you appear, and it is over."

Chama frowned and gestured at the smothering shadows surrounding them. "Do you see any forces? What am I in charge of?"

"You may not be directing them at this moment, but when the time comes I'm certain that the Seer intends to put the lives of our forces in your hands. That is what I worry about."

Chama's frown deepened. She was not a leader of men. She could be an appropriate team's influential member, but she was not the one to lead armies. Why the Seer would put their forces into her hands, she could not fathom. She was there to help, yes, but why take away the command from Valen's hands, when he had already shown that he was more than capable in that domain?

"I didn't ask to be put in charge," she muttered defensively.

"That's true. But you _are_ in charge now. Does that mean nothing to you?"

Chama became fiercer before Valen's eyes and there was something that seemed condensed in her bearing. "Of course it means something to me. I will do everything I can for the Seer and the rebels. If she is determined to have me lead her forces, I will do so – with your guidance if you are willing, since I have no experience in that field. I shall see this duty through the end, I promise you."

Valen studied her thoughtfully, not sure if he trusted her honesty yet.

"I… am glad to hear that, if a little surprised. You barely know us, and you've no reason to accept such a duty gladly."

Chama stared at him. "Who said that duty was a glad thing? Some things just need to be done."

Valen was silent for a long time, troubled by his lack of trust and her seemingly determined sense of duty.

"The Seer believes what she believes," he finally declared. "Her goddess leads and she follows without question, and this has been enough… so far."

At that Chama huffed. "I don't need a goddess that is not mine to lay my path before me. I will do what I have to no matter what _you_ or she thinks."

"Is that so?" Valen replied coolly. "You sound quite confident. Some might call that bravado, I think, considering what we face. I believe that the Seer has visions. I believe it may even be that her goddess sends them. I am a being of the planes, however, and I ascribe no infallibility to gods and goddesses. The Seer believes that you will lead us to victory, but nothing is said of what such a victory might cost us." He paused to look at her pointedly, his icy eyes glaring in a most intimidating manner. "Some costs, I think, are too high."

"Meaning what?", Chama retorted, angrily this time. _Spit it out, you hypocrite!_, she dared in her mind. _Name me the traitor you believe me to be!_

"Meaning that the Seer assumes that you are here to help us," he answered simply. "I make no such assumption. I have led these people through every danger so far and kept the Seer safe throughout. I won't see them betrayed."

_Now you've said it out loud._ "You think I would betray them?", she shot back hotly.

"And why not?", he shrugged. "You've no loyalty to beholden yourself to the drow or the Seer. For all I know you may see the death of any drow as a good thing."

"I'm not a devil to have to be _bound_ to do something, Valen! I have already told you that I would fight for the Seer! What more do you want from me? My word I won't betray you?"

He regarded her with an arched brow.

"Would you give it?"

"If that's all you need, a stupid promise that I have already committed myself to, then yes, I would." _You fool._

He stopped and considered for a short while. "I am not asking you to give your word. Too much has been asked of you already."

She let out an exasperated sound. "You think I'm a traitor! What do you care what's been asked of me already?"

The geas burned within all of a sudden. She turned her eyes away from him. It was hard enough to hold on to her determination without anyone doubting her. And she disliked being forced by a geas to do something she feared she would lack the determination to do otherwise. But these concerns were not for this rude excuse for a team-mate to see.

"I said I would help you and I intend to do so faithfully," Valen said with renewed steel, his eyes shifting to a hard and unyielding black. He ignored her latest comment completely. "But I intend to watch you, as well. I don't trust you, and it is as simple as that. Don't let me delay us any longer. Let's move on."

Chama didn't look back at him. She walked briskly past him and followed in the direction taken by Nathyrra, hoping the drow would melt out of the shadows soon to keep her mind off the doubt Valen stirred within her.

ooooo

It took a few uneventful days to explore the Underdark caves near Lith My'athar. Nathyrra scouted ahead a lot under the cover of shadows, while Chama and Valen followed behind her, trying to avoid speaking to each other if possible, seeing the tendency their conversations had to heat.

There was something else, however. There was a natural easiness for them to fall into battle next to each other; so much so that a conscious effort was necessary to include Nathyrra in the battle plans. As time passed, Chama seemed to hold Valen at a slightly shorter distance, and Valen seemed not to doubt her loyalty so much. Neither had said anything with words, however, and often Nathyrra found the atmosphere to be forbidding between the two of them.

Eventually, they reached a bridge of shadow that crossed a chasm, and it looked like the path to a beholder lair to the three of them. They all bent down over the control panel of the bridge. Nathyrra and Valen wrinkled their forehead in thought as they looked at the design and symbols of the panel.

"Chama, can you read what it says?", Nathyrra asked.

"It says 1, 2, 3, 4 and left, right," the elf answered carelessly, oblivious to Nathyrra's impressed stare at the alien runes. "I just have to manipulate to align the lines in the middle of the dots."

"What do you mean?", Nathyrra asked again.

"See? This way."

Chama pushed the buttons to move the lines to the left or right on each row, until a continuous line displayed on the control panel.

"Just in case I missed it and it zaps something magical our way, you would probably do better standing to the side. I'm pretty sure I can avoid or resist it. I've seen lots of those things in the Plane of Shadows."

Valen and Nathyrra stepped back. Valen was silenced by the knowledge that she, a non-planar mortal, had survived a stay in the dreaded plane. Chama, oblivious, pushed the central button of the control panel, and suddenly a bridge of shadow materialized over the chasm.

They crossed it.

ooooo

The beholder lair was a dark, damp and reeking place whose walls pulsed with a life of their own. The walls, doors, and ceilings hid a thousand dangers and many beholders. Valen walked in first, focusing the attention of all enemy creatures upon himself, only to be healed by potions afterwards. After a few battles, however, he was starting to feel a bit weak from all those repeated injuries, which he could still feel through the potions' magic.

Chama had the habit of adventuring with a warrior before her, though, and she called a halt so he could catch his breath even if she or Nathyrra obviously did not need it. After half an hour of rest, they set off again.

To his surprise, it was a kobold and not another eye-tyrant who greeted Valen when he pushed the next door after Chama assured him it was not trapped. He ground his teeth and glared at the little monster before him.

_Not another annoying kobold, by all the devils of Baator!_

He was mildly satisfied that this one was properly intimidated and took a few steps backwards, but then Chama walked passed him and called in a soft, sickly sweet voice, "Wait! We don't mean any harm. Please… maybe we can help each other."

Valen sighed, resigned to suffer the indignity of more kobolds' nicknames and annoying doom songs. He turned to Nathyrra, looking at her helplessly, and the drow laughed out loud.

"Valen… this can't be worse than a meeting with House Mae'viir's war leader?"

"Are you sure?", the tiefling muttered back with heartfelt despair.

Meanwhile, Chama had started talking with the kobold, who obviously could not answer by vocal means. Valen relented when he understood that the creature's tongue had been cut. He could feel sympathy for slaves, no matter their race. He did not protest or glare anymore when the mute kobold guided them to a nearby chamber, where more of his race were kept. They all moved away from the adventurers when they came into the room. Only one still had his tongue and could talk.

"We don't mean any harm," Chama reassured them gently. "In fact, we are here to fight the beholders. I wanted to speak to you, to warn you to stay here, out of the battle zone. The eye-tyrants will likely be angry when they notice that half their ranks are already missing." There was a silence, Chama obviously pondering something, and then she asked, "Will you wait here for a day or two?"

One of the kobold gestured to the many wounded, and mimed that it was hard to go anywhere in that condition. Finally Attiz, the one who still had a tongue, spoke up for the others.

"We wait."

"Very well. When we will be done with the beholder tyrant, we will come back and get you out of here. There is a friend of mine who will be happy to help you."

The kobolds looked at each other, and their spokesperson nodded, with a curious expression now.

"My friend is a kobold like you. Like you, he was once a slave, but is now free. His name is Deekin."

There were some wordless exclamations at the mention of Deekin's name, and the kobolds started to grow agitated, making signs to each other.

"Wait for us here, and stay out of the eye-tyrants' way," Chama ordered.

The kobolds nodded, and then started to confer to each other as best they could with signs and mimes.

"You _are_ going to bring them back to Lith My'athar, aren't you?", Valen sighed.

"Well, yes… In fact, I was thinking that, once drow are tired of Deekin's voice, he could train these kobolds with crossbows, if they wish to help us. Knowing how kobolds are eager to repay every kindness made to them, I'm sure they will. They're smart and I'm sure they'll make good marksmen."

"Kobolds in the Seer's army?", Nathyrra exclaimed a bit disdainfully.

"I _will_ try to enrol every trustworthy ally I can find," Chama replied defensively.

Neither companion added anything, and they went deeper and lower in the beholders' lair.


	11. Dead Magic and Living Experiment

_Hello again! A new chapter this week… I do hope people are still reading this story sigh… As always, reviews are greatly appreciated:)_

Chapter X. Dead magic and living project

The dead magic zone proved a dangerous surprise. Hopefully, after they left all the extra weight by the door, they were able to carry on without too much trouble, only changing their tactics slightly – Valen could still be deadly in close combat, Nathyrra could still slide in the shadows, and Chama was deadly and sneaky with her bow, taking advantage of her targets' distraction while they battled Valen.

The only problem was that there were no spells cast, by either Nathyrra or Chama, and it proved a strain when they were faced with the huge spider demon that Chama identified as a bebilith from afar.

"How can you tell from so far what type of demon it is?", Valen asked. "I am an outsider and I lived in the Abyss for years, and still I would hesitate."

"Well, from what bestiaries I read – and believe me, I was made to read a _lot_ of them in my training as a mage – there is not a single creature in the shape of a spider that can reach this size. There's a strand of giant spider, rumoured to feed off light; they're spoken of in ancient legend, but according to the few descriptions available, its legs bore four articulations, not three as this one, proving its more ancient origin… So I conclude that what we have before us is a bebilith."

Valen shook his head. "If you say so. What shall we do?"

"Nat should slide in first under the cover of shadows to get one sneak attack at its back. Valen, you should charge up front. I'll slide on one side to get good shots with sneak attacks while you keep it busy. If you are poisoned and are badly pressed, retreat. Nat and I will replace you in close combat the time for you to drink an antidote and a potion."

Valen nodded. Nathyrra set off into the shadows and they executed the plan. All three of them ended up poisoned, but after using antidotes and healing kits, they were ready to continue.

Chama, again, was the one to solve the mystery of the obelisk's workings and retrieve its core. Immediately, she felt all her magic fly back into her, and her mind expanded at blinding speed under the renewed influence of her circlet and ring.

"I'm scared to carry an artefact that can generate a dead magic zone around me. I'm worried it might backfire or something if I cast a spell anywhere near it. Valen… would you mind carrying it?"

"Not at all, Chama." He took the orb off her hands. "Why do you want to bring it back? Do you see any use to it in our conflict with the Valsharess?"

"I don't know yet. Maybe there will be a zone where it can be harmful to the Valsharess and not to us. Let's take it back with us anyway. Maybe the Seer will have a better idea."

They returned to the entrance, where their rope still waited, hanging from far higher, in the beholder lair. Valen sighed as he looked up.

"Are you going to be alright, climbing all the way up with your heavy pack?", Chama asked him. "Nat and I aren't carrying much. We can help you if you need."

"I'll be fine now that the strength of my magical equipment has been returned to me."

Chama nodded, and Valen started to haul himself up, him, his full armour and his heavy pack. A nasty surprise however was awaiting them when they finally emerged from the pit they had climbed down into.

"Ambush!", Valen yelled while a dozen beholders suddenly floated down from the ceiling and started zapping magical beams and snapping their jaws in his direction. "Keep cover!"

"Yeah sure, we're going to just watch them tear you apart," Chama muttered and pulled herself on ground level, immediately hit by three rays of death magic. She staggered and started casting, followed by Nathyrra.

The tiefling tried to center the enemies' attention on him with battle cries and whirlwind attacks, but the beholders were smart and they knew that the two spellcasters were easier prey. They kept zapping at them, and Valen was amazed to hear that Chama could keep her concentration and cast even while hit like this. Nathyrra had more trouble, however, and soon enough she tried to slip out of the room and the heated battle.

She never reached the door. One of the eye-tyrants had carefully aimed and hit her in the kidney with a destructive ray of magic. The drow went down with a grunt, starting to writhe in convulsions on the ground.

Valen let out a cry of pure fury and transformed into a whirlwind of destruction. Chama screamed out in rage and exploded in maximized fireballs. She reclaimed her self-control quickly enough and ran to Nathyrra's side as soon as the battle lost in intensity, leaving Valen to deal with their remaining enemies.

The drow was still alive. Her breathing and heartbeat were quick, shallow and irregular. Chama pried open the higher part of her companion's armour and held back the flow of blood from the drow's side with a hand, opening a healing kit with the other. The disintegration ray had opened a gaping hole in Nathyrra's abdomen. Soon Valen was besides Chama, the last enemy crushed and his eyes yellow. Chama had quickly learned to recognize that this colour took over his eyes when he fought the demon.

"Snap out of it, I need your help," she ordered. "Hold back the blood."

Valen moved obediently to put pressure on the wound, his hands large and rough on Nathyrra's lean abdomen. Chama was fumbling with a healing kit with her bloodied hands, preparing healing herbs and clean bandages. Eventually she turned back to her patient, whose face was of an unhealthy grey now. Chama prepared a pressure bandage in her right hand.

"On three, you remove your hand and I put the bandage." Valen nodded his agreement. "One… two… three…"

Valen removed his hand and she covered the blood well with a cloth drenched in a liquid of pungent smell.

"Hold it there, it will quell the blood somewhat. I need to prepare another one; it will take two."

Valen put pressure on the bandage. Chama opened another healing kit and produced another pungent-smelling cloth. She replaced the one held in place by Valen, now soaked with blood, and saw with relief that the healing magic was doing its work. The blood was spilling more slowly. Nathyrra stirred.

"Stay put, Nat," Valen said, "we're putting you back in one piece."

The drow groaned and opened her eyes, seeing Valen holding bandages to her side, and Chama looking through a healing kit's contents with bloodied hands.

"All this blood… is it all mine?", she asked faintly.

"I might have contributed a few drops, but it's mostly yours," Valen grinned. "Don't worry, you'll be fine."

"Don't speak, Nat," Chama suddenly asked. "I need to listen to your breathing and heartbeat to know how your blood pressure's doing."

The drow obediently fell silent. Chama monitored her state for a while and finally declared, "You'll do fine. The herbs just need a few more minutes to stop your bleeding."

Chama replaced Valen to hold the cloth, and the warrior turned his back on the ladies, blushing a bit now that he had the time to realize that he had seen Nathyrra's undergarments and touched her lithe, flat stomach… The drow really was an attractive woman. He coughed and scratched his head, watching around for any sign of other beholders in an attempt to concentrate on something else than his distracting thoughts.

There was a long silence while Chama helped Nathyrra to slip her armour back on, and finally Valen could turn back around.

"How are you feeling now?", Chama asked, scrutinizing Nathyrra's face attentively.

"I'm alright, but I still feel a bit weak from my injuries. My spells are still alright; you got me out of unconsciousness really fast."

"Here, drink this. It should make you feel better."

Chama handed a potent potion to the drow, who sat up carefully, with Valen's help, and drank. Her skin instantly gained back its healthy bluish hue, not the grey one of disease. Chama watched, seeing again how everyone but her appeared tough and capable of sustaining their injuries and pain.

The assassin stood and tested her strength by a few moves. "Ready to go!", she decreed with a predatory grin.

"Are you sure? We can rest for a while, if you prefer."

"No, I'm fine."

Chama turned to Valen and, after a quick survey of his wounds, handed him a potion. "Will this be enough for you?"

"Yes. Thank you."

They went back to see the kobolds, and offered them the possibility to follow them back to Lith My'athar; they were not ambushed or intercepted on their way back. The kobolds chatted and gestured happily among themselves all the way back, obviously overjoyed at their sudden and unexpected freedom. Nathyrra slipped to her room without another word as soon as they reached the temple though, understandably tired.

Valen stood by Chama's side while the wood elf explained to the Seer and Imloth that they had killed the beholder-tyrant, found kobold allies, and retrieved a magical artefact capable of creating a dead magic zone. The tiefling knew the Seer well, and he could tell she was impressed.

"Do you have use for the artefact?", Imloth asked.

"Not really. Can you make it useful?"

"I believe so," the commander answered. "It occurs to me that the Dark River makes us safe from mundane boats and assaults, but if we are to be attacked on that front, it will be by magical means. A dead magic zone on the docks would take care of that threat."

Valen looked with approval at the drow strategist. "Very good idea, Imloth. I don't know how you can make a dead magic zone spring out of that artefact though. It's inactive in its current form. Chama, do you have any idea?"

The elf bit her lip, thinking a moment.

"Well, the obelisk that hosted it was not overly sophisticated, and I know it was adamantine-based technology, with a net of beholder runes in a language I know. It would require a bit of work, but I… Oh, I'm thinking, wouldn't Gulhrys agree to help me with that?"

Valen forcefully turned his mental back on any opinions he had about the High Wizard and the prospect of a common project with Chama. Valen and Imloth exchanged a look. "Since his House is allied with us, it would be hard for him to refuse," Valen commented dryly. He did not add that if he was to believe Gulhrys' repeated looks in Chama's direction, the mage would be eager for a reason to work with the surface elf.

"Then, between the two of us and Nat's help, I'm pretty sure we can manage. Moreover he must have a well-supplied laboratory. I'll just miss Deekin to hum along while he measures my reagents… He'll be needed to train the kobolds."

Suddenly an unbearable sense of doom crashed down on Valen. Obviously, he could be of no use to Chama and Gulhrys while they worked on that magical apparatus. He was therefore expected to assist in the training of the troops, as he usually did in his free time. This meant he would have to put up with Deekin and the score of other kobolds. His mind set out in frenzy for a way out of this situation. _Any_ way.

He was unsuccessful.

ooooo

The next afternoon, after being chased away by Imloth who declared that he was far from helping the kobolds to learn – which was true; they were fearful enough as it was and lost all their means when he could not keep from glaring at them in an intimidating manner – he went to check on Chama's and Gulhrys' progress.

He was guided by one of Mae'viir's guards through the public house of Mae'viir to the mage's laboratory. From quite a distance he could hear the regular boom of magical explosions, and a suffocating and multicoloured smoke started to choke the corridor thirty meters from the laboratory's doors. The guard knocked on the door, bowed respectfully and left when Gulhrys opened the door.

"Valen," the mage greeted flatly. That was a show of drow animosity if ever there was one. That unexpectedly lifted Valen's spirits.

"Ah, Valen! Come in and take a look. We're progressing nicely," he heard Chama's voice across the billowing smoke.

Valen walked in warily, waving a hand in front of his face to try and clear the smoke from his watery eyes. When finally he discerned something through the peasouper, he saw Chama, Nathyrra, Gulhrys and Rizolvir, all four covered in soot and magical powder of all colours, and an indescribable jumble of magical devices, heaps or bars of metal, grinders, magical rods, sheets of parchment covered in hurtful and alien runes, and even Rizolvir's anvil and hammer.

"By all the devils of Baator, what is all this mess?", he asked.

Chama laughed. "This is a mage's laboratory, and this is an ongoing experiment."

"Rizolvir, what are you doing here?"

"Well, that contraption of theirs involves a frame of adamantine, and they figured a smith would be more efficient in creating the metal structure they need. I hope you had no urgent request for my forge. Transporting my magical anvil here was complicated enough, even with three wizards' help. I plan on finishing here before going back to the forge."

"No, Rizolvir. This should be considered a higher priority than weapons or armour requests," Valen ordered, still surveying the muddle. He turned to Chama who was observing a small piece of cloth with strange glasses. "So… sparing me the details… how is it going?"

"Well, we're pretty sure we solved the problem," she began.

"Thanks to my lady's original and insightful perspective on the problematic," Gulhrys purred.

Nathyrra snorted out loud. Valen swallowed and stared firmly at Chama, refusing to glower at Gulhrys suddenly.

_He's_ begging _for it_, Valen's demonic half pleaded. _What right does he have to speak to her like that? You should teach him a lesson. He's going to put her into trouble._

_That's not an argument you would use. You don't care whether or not she gets in trouble. Now shut up, she can handle herself, and she can handle him._

Then he added to himself, sighing inwardly, _She can handle_ me _after all._ Chama seemed slightly annoyed by Gulhrys. Of course, a drow male would take a _mild_ annoyance as a sign his flattery was _very_ welcome. Valen's anger flared, but he kept staring firmly at Chama, who went on awkwardly, apparently unsettled by his gaze, "Yes, well… we're pretty sure our plans are sound. What's left to do is build the thing and test it. It should take four or five days to finish; the metal structure will be done by tomorrow, but the heavy enchantment in the eye-tyrant tongue is going to take a few days to soak in."

"I see."

Valen was displeased that she would be stuck in Lith My'athar for so long. Their days were counted before the Valsharess struck. Her work here on this device would delay them dangerously. Still, he could not deny that another security at the docks would be a good idea.

"I plan on getting Gulhrys started on the magic tomorrow, and then I'll leave the whole thing to him. I'll just come and check the final testing, so Nathyrra and I can be here to counterspell in case something goes wrong."

"Ah. Very well then," Valen breathed in relief.

Rizolvir, who was striking and quenching metal in his corner of the laboratory, suddenly called out, "Hey, Valen, would you mind lending me a hand? My apprentices are far too cowardly to come within House Mae'viir, so I'm left without a help."

"Sure, Rizolvir!", Valen exclaimed enthusiastically. Anything not to go back to training those annoying kobolds. _Anything_. "What do you need me to do?"

The drow smith grinned, sweat trickling down his face. "You might like to remove your armour; it can get pretty hot in here. I just need you to hold the metal for me or work the bellows at times."

Valen stripped of his armour and was about to put it down in a corner when suddenly Nathyrra yelped, "No! Not there! Not on my invisible crystals!"

The tiefling chuckled. "Well, you _see_, it was the only _visibly_ unoccupied corner. Now, would you be so kind as to point me _where_ I can put my armour?"

The drow grinned and swept up a corner with a move of the arm, pushing unceremoniously various objects in a disorganized pile. She pointed the newly available piece of ground.

"_There_ is going to be fine."

And Valen set to work with Rizolvir on the forge. To his surprise, the work was rather trying, with the heat and the heavy bars of adamantine to be manoeuvred around. Moreover, they worked until a late hour of the night, when finally Gulhrys declared that it was time to stop, lest Matron Myrune _complained_ of the noise. Even Valen felt a pang of dread at that idea, and so they cleaned up the laboratory and readied everything for the next morning.

Gulhrys walked them to the door and kissed Chama's hand. Nathyrra snorted again, so Valen allowed himself to growl, and Rizolvir shook his head. The High Wizard then went back into the house, after one last bow.

"You have to be firmer than that with males, my dear," Nathyrra advised when the door closed.

Chama blushed a very bright shade of embarrassment and Rizolvir excused himself to go back towards the public house where he lived. The three travelling companions walked back to the temple, where an excited Deekin was waiting for "Boss" to tell her everything about the progress of the kobold recruits.

Valen and Nathyrra hastily slid away from the long-winded kobold to let Chama deal with his personal way of retelling the day. Valen, however, waited in the corridor until at last, nearly an hour later, Chama came up towards her room, looking tired and drawn, accompanied by a now silent Deekin. The kobold was smiling happily, uncovering his reptilian, sharp teeth, and he actually seemed _satisfied_ with the silence. Valen could not fathom what lengths of patience must have been necessary to finally drive Deekin to a _content_ silence.

Chama stopped hesitantly when she saw Valen in the corridor, but started back towards him and sent Deekin ahead alone to his own room.

"Yes, Valen?"

"I just… I just wanted to thank you."

She frowned. "What for?"

"For saving Nathyrra."

She nodded, and then looked more closely at Valen. His expression was hard to decipher, but he seemed worried.

"I'm glad too that I could bring her back."

"I… didn't know her very well before we started travelling with you. I… haven't had many friends in my life. I wouldn't have liked to lose one so quickly."

So, that was the cause of Valen's strange expression.

"I understand that very well," she replied sourly.

Valen stared at her with piercing eyes. "I _do_ think she considers you her friend."

Chama smiled mirthlessly. "I would rather ask her than discuss it with you, if you don't mind. Anyway, one out of you two is a good score for me anyway."

Valen stared at her with an uncertain expression. He _wanted_ to be her friend, but he was still a bit distrustful, even if his fear of treason had been alleviated since he had seen her torn about the actions she must take in the conflict between the golems of the Isle of the Maker.

Chama turned away and conspicuously focused on unlocking her door, ignoring Valen and leaving him to go to his own room.


	12. Interlude

Chapter XI. Interlude

The team spent another day working on the magical device designed to create a dead magic zone from the obelisk's core. Valen helped Rizolvir to fashion the metal structure, then to assemble its heavy weight. Nathyrra took care of the magical gear assemblage, while Chama and Gulhrys concentrated on scripting spells in the tongue of the beholders and readying spell reagents. Meanwhile, Deekin was arranging the last details regarding the kobolds' quartering and equipment, and starting to teach them the rudiments of ranks and military action.

Again, it was deep into the night when Rizolvir, Valen, Nathyrra and Chama emerged from House Mae'viir, exhausted and covered in magical soot. Again Gulhrys kissed Chama's hand, earning a snort, a growl and a shake of the head.

The next morning, though, the team was ready to set off again. They were a bit tired from the short night, but Chama nevertheless exposed her plan to her team-mates with enthusiasm.

"Now I would suggest going to see the illithids. Negotiations with them are likely to take some time, so we should not wait until the last minute before the confrontation with the Valsharess."

"Boss not lets devourers eat her brain!", Deekin suddenly exclaimed. "Boss so smart, Deekin sure all devourers wants to taste…"

"I'll be careful," Chama promised with a smile. "'Devourers', Deekin? You start to speak like a drow. I take it you've held some interviews?"

"After Deekin be done singing in public house at night, sometimes drow come and speak with Deekin. Drow people say they be proud if Deekin sings their stories when he gets back to the surface."

Valen frowned in disbelief, exchanging a sceptical glance with Nathyrra. Chama giggled and patted Deekin's head.

"I hope you will, Deekin. You will continue to train the kobolds while I'm gone?"

"Yes, Boss!"

"Very good, Deekin. Be a good leader to them."

At the word "leader", the kobold suddenly became agitated. "Deekin not be _leader_," he protested uneasily.

"That's how they see you, Deekin, but don't worry. Just train them like you did yesterday, and everything will be fine."

The kobold was definitely less assured when the team parted ways with him at Lith My'athar's gates.

ooooo

Mere hours later, Nathyrra, Valen and Chama were back, all shaken up to varying degree from the illithids' and umber hulks' stunning psychic attacks, with a score of freed slaves hot on their heels. Valen went with the slaves to Imloth so the commander would find them a place where to live, while Chama, Nathyrra and Argosus, the slaves' leader, went to speak with the Seer.

"I'm afraid the negotiations didn't quite end up in our favour," Chama announced bluntly when the Seer arrived in the main temple's chamber. She had been in her private quarters. "The Elder Brain asked for a powerful artefact called the Mirror of All-Seeing in exchange to refuse his promised help to the Valsharess. If this Mirror is what I remember it is from my lore classes back at the Academy, then I'd never have dared give such a powerful item to an evil race like the illithid anyway. So we went and freed the slaves. At least this might slow them a bit in the days to come… I don't know."

The fire of passion for right and justice was strikingly fierce in the elf just then. The Seer was surprised; it was very different from the perilous moral edge Chama had been walking when she first arrived. The Seer prayed in gratitude to her goddess and requested to be forgiven her foolish doubts. She smiled warmly to their prophetical saviour, who started not only to act like a hero, but to _feel_ like one. The suffering and stirring depths behind Chama's façade did not seem so close to the surface and threatening anymore.

"We trust your decisions, Chamaedaphne," the drow lady answered. She turned to address the illithid drow slave standing with Nathyrra's help. "These ex-slaves… I take it you are their leader?"

"Yes, Mother Seer… I am Argosus, the slaves' leader. In their name and mine I would like to thank you for your hospitality in Lith My'athar."

The Seer walked closer and cast a spell, healing the man's ankle. It had been bitten by a manticore in a fight days ago, and the wound had started to fester and was becoming more painful with each passing instant. The drow blinked in amazement at his restored feet, then up to the Seer. She smiled kindly.

"You are most welcome here, as are all those who seek freedom, be it from the Valsharess or another of her allies."

"Th-thank you! Thank you, Mother Seer, for showing… for showing mercy for my weakness…" The drow male trailed off, realizing that a seer to Eilistraee would not expect to be addressed in such a manner, but he did not know how to address a female otherwise.

He cleared his throat, taking his weight off Nathyrra's shoulder, and bowed to the Seer, still smiling benevolently at him.

"In the name of all the slaves and mine, I assure you that we will offer whatever assistance we may provide in your coming battle against the Valsharess. I'm afraid we are but meagre soldiers, but we will stand fast amongst your ranks."

"Everyone in Lith My'athar thanks you for your courage."

Chama let Arogsus discuss in drow with Nathyrra and the Seer. She walked out of the temple and was intercepted on her way to House Mae'viir by Valen.

"Chama? Where are you going?"

"Going to check on Gulhrys's progress… Why? Does something urgently require my attention?"

"No," he reassured her. "I just thought you might be going to see him, and… I think it would not be a good idea for you to go alone in House Mae'viir, considering the… political debate currently happening, and your possible implication by Zesyyr." It was unusual to hear a treacherous voice other than the demon's speak up in his mind. _As if the political situation is the true reason you don't want her near Gulhrys alone_, he snorted at himself.

She shrugged. "Very well, do come along. Although I'm quite surprised that you're willingly coming to meet with Gulhrys again."

It was quite an exercise of Valen's will not to blush in embarrassment at the thought of _what_ she had noticed that made her say that. He sighed. "I have promised to serve you faithfully. I do what needs to be done in order to do so."

She smiled and they were on their way. Gulhrys himself escorted them to his laboratory and the magical device. He exposed the extent of his progress in great detail. Valen felt Chama's effort to keep the visit short though, and he was grateful. At last, when the High Wizard walked them back to the door, Valen tried his best to ignore the irritating fact that the damned drow was still kissing Chama's hand. He could not completely explain the fact for himself, but he was comforted by the knowledge that Nathyrra shared his annoyance. At least it seemed annoyance was a normal reaction.

Valen escorted Chama back to the temple, and fled to his room when Deekin suddenly appeared, yelping joyously that "Boss" was back. When the tiefling closed securely the door to his room behind him, drowning out most of Deekin's noise, Valen chuckled lightly to himself.

A weapon master terrified into a shameful flight by a kobold bard. Surely a skald somewhere ought to make a song out of that.

ooooo

The next trip they undertook was to the second Isle, since Chama had judged that it was now time to search for more allies and strengthen themselves, and that everyone agreed. So they journeyed onboard Cavallas's boat again, the strange boatman navigating his drow ship wisely and expertly.

The air over the Dark River was pleasantly cool and fresh, with a gentle wind, and Chama stood at the prow, looking at the darkness of the Underdark and the many rocks lying treacherously just below the surface; she could see them only as they passed them by, but Cavallas steered them through a safe path. The air was cool, but the smell hinted at the poison that ran in the river nonetheless; the smell was piercing and slightly gagging, like a magical broth gone awry.

It was the first time in quite a few days that she felt alone. She had a time to look into herself and appreciate the change happening within her. It was strange that she had seen so many places in her long life, but had to come to this forsaken underground maze to finally find peace.

She was astounded that Halaster's geas had not even crossed her thoughts for the last five days. She had followed the path _she_ had set – striking at the beholders, freeing the slaves of the illithids – and not once she had thought of the geas. She had thought of the Seer's rebels to be helped in their justified conflict with the Valsharess and of the slaves who deserved freedom. She had felt no calling at all to let them rot or see them fight in the pits. She wondered if she would always need to be surrounded by smothering blackness to feel the longing to accomplish good. But then she smiled at the blackness of the Underdark stretching before her. Then she would just have to remember this place for the rest of her life and she would be fine, wouldn't she?

It felt good to be alone with her thoughts, but not as much as she would have expected. To her surprise, she found that she appreciated Nathyrra's and Valen's company.

She was still a bit intrigued by Valen though. How did a tiefling end up embroiled in a drow rebellion on the Prime? And why was he so fiercely protective of the Seer and distrustful, ready to suspect anyone of treachery? Was he so influenced by drow culture already?

As though answering to her very thoughts, she heard his heavy footsteps and the clinking of his armour as he walked closer.

"Might we speak?", he asked in his almost curt voice.

"Yes, Valen?", she answered while she turned around to face him.

He watched her for a moment. He seemed uncertain, but still his fierce eyes unsettled her.

"I wish to talk about the Seer," he began.

She sighed, wondering if he wanted to speak about his drow friend or question his party leader's loyalty again. Chama felt more assured of her answers now than the first time, but still…

"Why do you want to talk about the Seer?", Chama sighed out in defeat. "Do you still think I will betray her?"

"Possibly. I think you need to know just how important the Seer is to me… to everyone who follows her."

Instantly she felt more at ease; if the subject of the conversation was not going to be her allegiances, then it could be nothing but a brilliant success compared to her last conversation with Valen. "Ah… I would hear why you care about her so, then."

"I intend to protect her at all costs," he confirmed. Then he hesitated a while, pondering how he could best explain himself. "I am unsure how much knowledge you have of the planes, Chama. I know you have summoned devils and demons, but that is a different matter than knowing the planes. Does the Blood Wars mean anything to you?"

She smiled a slightly condescending wizard's smile. "Well… I read about it, studied the speculations as to its beginnings and possible conclusions, wrote essays about its consequences throughout the planes, but still I have not experienced it first hand as you have. I would like to hear your perspective on the subject, if you are willing to share it."

"Very well," Valen agreed. He surprised even himself at the ease with which he spoke to her about it now, after the last time she had brought the subject up. "The Blood Wars are the ages-old conflict between the demons of the Abyss and the devils of Baatezu. We have battled so long and so ferociously that the War is now part of our blood. There is no true hope of winning, just one battle after the next is fought wherever demons and devils encounter each other. An endless cycle of rage and bloodshed. I was… recruited into those battles."

He looked away into the blackness of the cave. How could words ever describe this eternal conflict? _Endless cycle of rage and bloodshed…_ He had no words to adequately describe the scope and the brutality of the Blood Wars, but the haunted quality of his eyes succeeded in communicating it with Chama.

"For years I fought in the Outer Planes as something less than a soldier," he explained in a toneless voice. "I was a beast."

There was a short silence, and she asked gently, "How were you recruited?"

"I was captured. I spent all of my youth fleeing from the Blood Wars, but I was scooped up by the demons and made a battle slave anyway."

A "battle slave". She had never thought of this in those terms.

"I had little choice but to fight. I was a slave, you see, the property of my demonic master. He threw me into each battle and I fought to survive."

"How long did this go on?"

Valen wrinkled his forehead in thought. "I cannot be sure. Much of my time in the Abyss was spent in incoherent rage… perhaps twenty years? More? Time has little meaning there. In any event, the Blood Wars made me into the warrior that I am." He gestured at his old armour, which he wore right now since they just left Lith My'athar, and weapon. "Though it meant nothing to me. I was a mindless soldier, no more. My infernal masters encouraged the demonic blood that was within me. I was beholden to it… I revelled in it, and was desperate to please my masters with each opponent I slaughtered." His voice had darkened. She was looking at him without surprise. She would expect this from a tiefling with a demon's blood, he thought sourly. "There was nothing in me that was human," he still explained, "and that meant less than nothing to me. Until the Seer found me."

"She came to the Abyss?", she startled.

He shook his head, a brief smile of amusement on his lips. "No. The first time I saw her, I was summoned along with my master to your world by a sepll… to fight against the Seer, in fact. A drow priestess had called us and so we were beholden to do battle. During the attack I came face to face with the Seer… and she… looked into my soul. I have no other way to describe it. We were banished back to the planes, but the memory of the Seer stayed with me. It haunted my dreams."

He closed his eyes and she saw something she never thought was possible. Valen shuddered.

"For the first time in decades, I began to remember the life I once had."

"And she hadn't even done anything to you."

"Not directly, no. But… I think she was the first person who had really looked at me. And therefore she made me look at myself. I didn't like what I saw."

"That can't have been easy, considering where you were," she noted in a gentle voice.

"It wasn't," he confirmed flatly.

"So what did you do?"

He paused and closed his eyes against the images conjured by his memory.

"My master sensed my… difficulty. I was tortured, for months or years… I really could not tell. I only remember that it was agony beyond measure." He laughed harshly. "Demons know how to torture. But eventually I was able to escape Grimash't. I made my way to your world, an alien place for a planar such as me, and searched until I found the Seer. She healed my wounds and… spoke to me. She offered to help me. If I wanted it." His voice was thick with sudden emotion. "She saved me in every way that one can be saved."

There was a noticeable silence. Suddenly Chama did not mind so much his distrustful attitude towards her. If anyone had suddenly appeared in master Drogan's company, she was sure she would have been equally wary – she _had been_, when Ayala had arrived in a very timely manner after the kobolds' attack that had poisoned the dwarf.

"I understand," she said quietly. "I don't know if it means anything to you, but I really do."

He tilted his head slightly in acknowledgement, and for a moment an understanding and a comfortable feeling passed between them, as though they were old friends sharing a beautiful panorama on a quiet afternoon after a long and arduous ascension to the top of a mountain. Valen was the first one to look away, back into the blackness of the cave, and his stance tensed up again.

"I thought it necessary to tell you all this simply so you know how truly important the Seer is to me," he concluded more tersely. "I would never betray her… or allow her to be betrayed."

"I'm not going to betray anyone, Valen," she stated, in a gentle tone unlike the one she had used the last time they had spoken about this. "I have already told you this. If you don't want me to give you my word, then you have to trust me."

He grimaced. "I'm sorry, I do not mean to make accusations. I simply thought you should know that."

He suddenly pointed to the island appearing above the horizon in front of the boat. "At any rate, we are arriving."


	13. Talona's Touch

_Some amount of cuteness ahead… Be warned!!! And please, keep the reviews coming :)_

Chapter XII. Talona's touch

Once on the island of the Avariel, Chama, Nathyrra and Valen spoke to the winged elves nearer to the gates and to the man in the library. After those disturbing conversations, Chama stopped her team in a discreet corner behind the library.

"It's a mirror," she stated.

"A mirror?", Valen inquired.

Chama's face was unreadable under her helmet, but her voice seemed embarrassed when she explained herself.

"Well, yes... some sort of spell obviously changed these Avariel from one end to the other, down to the last one of them, and the merchant spoke of a piece of glass. I suppose a magical mirror did this to them, by way of a curse, or a wish, something of the sort. After what the illithid said, it might even be the Mirror of All-Seeing."

"Well, yes, that's possible," Nathyrra agreed. "Although I don't know what particular artefact would have this power."

Valen looked at both spellcasters blandly before turning to his leader. "I wouldn't know. What do you expect us to do now?"

"I think we should search for Queen Shaori for a few explanations, and the other shards of glass, of course. Which reminds me, let's try this compass the merchant gave us. This thrash over there seems a bit strange to me."

They searched the island. They found Shaori in a cave just a little further behind the library; she did not shed much light on what happened, but she did demonstrate that she was no longer a queen and she informed them of the presence of the Valsharess' agents on the isle.

Chama, Nathyrra and Valen found the piece of glass belonging to the merchant in the thrash Chama had noticed, the one guarded by the medusa in the library, then another one in the mage's tower, and finally they made their way towards the temple and the palace, although Chama decided that they should visit the temple first, trying to recover as many pieces of glass as they could before risking an encounter with Sabal.

They were walking in a narrow ravine between the palace and temple, when suddenly drow poisoned arrows flew at them from all sides, from the top of the cliffs on each side of them. Nathyrra and Valen sprung forward and ran across the deep ravine; there _had _to be a way somewhere to get up, since the assassins were there.

"Stay together, don't be overrun! On the left side, that's the spellcasters' side!", Chama yelled behind them. She had not moved, and Valen heard the familiar magical sound of the ground crawling up her body to cover her in skins of stone.

Valen knew this ambush had a good chance of success. Mass spells would be hard to use for Chama, with enemies scattered about like this. Nathyrra's stealth was useless, and he would lose a lot of time running after them. And, more importantly, the weakest member of the team was standing in the middle of the ravine, a target of choice for arrows and bolts as she cast. Her stoneskins would not hold for long.

Three drow warriors tried to block his way when he started climbing the narrow passage leading up the cliff. Even with the disadvantage of the slope, however, he was still big and strong enough to drive them back. He laughed as he fought, each swing hitting true, and keeping them distracted so Nathyrra could place a few devastating sneak attacks.

Reaching the top of the cliff proved to be the longest part of the fight, because the score of enemies on the left side of the ravine was dealt with in just a few minutes. Nathyrra and Valen turned back and rushed to the other side, but all that was left of the enemy squadron were bodies; the sight was grim indeed. Corpses were scattered, their hair and skin burned and blackened, with boulders of ice embedded in skulls and chests. The ice was slowly melting away and making the blood drip off into the grey and dry soil of the Underdark.

The two companions exchanged a look, panting; it was the first time they were given to see the full extent of Chama's offensive powers on something else than a practice rock. She had never used so much spells at a time before, careful not to catch her companions in the area of effect of her spells. Silently, they got down from the cliff, where Chama was still standing. A dozen of bolts and arrows were embedded in her chest, abdomen, and legs. A good amount of her blood was pouring from her wounds. Valen tried not to pay too much attention to that, despite the demon begging for destruction within.

Chama was waiting for them. When they were close enough, she informed them quietly, "My stoneskins didn't stop everything. There's an arrow in my right shoulder that seriously impedes my dexterity. I don't think I can take it out by myself. It would be nice to find a secure corner where to take care of that, because I'm poisoned and injured badly enough. I won't hold on my feet for another hour."

"Don't worry, I'll find us a defendable spot," Nathyrra assured and scurried off back the way they came.

"I will help you to walk," Valen offered, pushing the demon back forcefully. He took her arm gently and she leaned on him heavily as they followed Nathyrra. A good part of her weight rested on his arm, and yet she was very light. He could not help noticing how slim she was, even for an elf.

Nathyrra, with her assassin's eyes, had quickly spotted a corner which entrance was partly concealed, and she was scanning through a healing kit's contents. Valen helped Chama to sit with the arrow in her left thigh, and respectfully turned his back to the ladies when Nathyrra began disrobing Chama. The drow pulled out the arrows unceremoniously, before finally tending to her leader's wounds and curing the poison running through her veins. Finally Nathyrra told Valen that he could turn around.

He turned and scrutinized what he could see of Chama's face through the eye slits of her circlet.

"Can you remove your helmet?", he asked.

"No, it will make me lose my extra spells. Why?"

"I was trying to assess your state. You still look a bit pale. Do you wish to rest for a while?"

She hesitated, before agreeing reluctantly, "A short while, yes… A few minutes."

She lay down on the hard stone ground and closed her eyes, letting her head rest and the world slowly stop to swirl. Poison always had a devastating effect on her. She was already weak; she did not need to be made weaker. She tried to block Valen's thoughtful concern from her mind. She did not want his pity, and she surely did not need to be angry at him for it now. They had two shards of glass to find yet. She concentrated on a breathing exercise taught to her by Drogan, and after a few minutes she sat up and declared that she was ready.

ooooo

They went to the temple next. Chama was secretly hoping to find someone who could cast a restoration on her.

The reality was totally to the opposite. As soon as she crossed the threshold, she felt something slick and terrifying slip over and under her skin. She staggered, choking, and every limb and inch of her body burned. Valen's hand was there holding her elbow to steady her. But as the first wave of pain left, leaving her feverish and stricken, she pushed him away and strode angrily to the smirking avariel nearby.

"What have you done to me?", she snarled.

The dark-skinned priest explained how he had switched to Talona's worship, and that Chama was to be put to the test in an arena against a monster. The elf glared at her winged cousin and considered a long moment before she nodded.

"I will accept your challenge. I guess I could have Valen and Nathyrra kill you, but then the town would be left without their devoted healer when this place returns to the surface. Because I intend to set things right again."

Valen blinked, his anger at the priest's dishonourable behaviour lessening suddenly. He had not realized that this man would be a good, kind and thoughtful healer once the Avariel town was turned back to what it once was. Chama was right to accept the challenge, but he was worried for her safety. She had just recovered from another poison after all, and he was sure that Talona's touch would have crippled one even such as him. Chama startled him out of his musings.

"Valen, your belt, gloves and boots please."

He blinked a few times before he understood that she needed the magical enhancement of her strength and constitution in her current state of weakness. He handed her the magical items, which shrunk to accommodate her smaller hands, waist and feet, when she caught them. She pulled the new equipment on, and then carefully studied her scrolls, wands, and potions. She rearranged the items in her sash and took a scroll in her sword-free hand.

The challenge started when she pulled on the first of three chains hanging from the high roof of the temple. She was transported into the arena, and anger exploded in Valen like a star of rage and desire for destruction. He seethed, standing by the side, his eyes the deepest red, while Chama faced a troll in the arena.

She was already diseased. She should not be faced with a monster that could weaken her further. And most of all, he should not be standing by the side watching. He should be with her in the arena, standing in front of her and making sure the troll could not as much as lay the tip of a claw on a hair from her head.

The demon showed in his eyes, but it was still the human thinking, and the demon could do nothing at all despite the door wide open to unadulterated rage in Valen's mind.

And, as suddenly as this terrible anger had flared inside of him, Valen suddenly feared. He saw Chama bend her head to read the scroll and the troll taking its claws up to strike at her through the chest. She would never see the hit coming. The creature would tear her apart.

The air started to shimmer, and a magical square appeared on the ground, filled with arcane symbols in dizzying red, and the troll fell straight dead, its claws still pulled back, ready to strike.

Valen blinked a few times, staring in puzzlement. He turned to Nathyrra.

"A power word to kill," the drow whispered. It was obvious from her voice that she was equally worried about Chama's health.

He sighed in relief when she reappeared by their side, but then she staggered again, and from the heavy cough she let out, he knew for sure that she was not free of the disease.

"What have you done to her?", he snarled to the priest. "She succeeded your test!"

The priest smirked and laughed cruelly. "She did, but do we choose what illness or disease will plague us? Do we choose how many stages an affliction must progress through before we emerge from its deadly grasp?"

"We should have expected this treachery," Valen spat. "Talona is a vile god who enjoys tormenting others."

"It's alright, Valen," Chama said then, straightening, and turning to the priest. "I am ready for the next trial."

Before he could say anything though, she had pulled at a chain again. The same thing happened: she used a power word from a scroll to kill the troll, and was taken back to them. This time she fell to her knees with a cry of pain, clutching at her chest through her clothes. After a while to compose herself, she got up from her knees.

"I see now why Talona chose to test you – you are very strong. Even racked with illness you have completed this stage of the trial."

"How many stages are there?", she asked calmly, but Valen could see, even through the thick glove of strength, that her delicate hand was shaking.

"It depends on the strength of the individual to challenge," the Avariel answered condescendingly. "You must be pushed to your very limits before you can prove yourself."

"We're sick of your games, priest," Valen growled, making a menacing step towards him and letting his eyes flash red. "So quit stalling and answer Chama's question!"

His eyes had turned not as a part of his intimidation tactic; they had turned of their own accord, because he was genuinely angry. How could a winged elf be more treacherous than even the cleverest of devils?

After a few more seconds at letting a mysterious silence stretch, the priest answered that there would be five stages. Valen turned to Chama, his hand on the handle of his weapon. She shook her head no.

"I'll be fine, Valen. I'll not let him die if there's another way."

"But you are held by no word and no honour to take his trials," Valen protested angrily. "He is not being honest to us. He is playing with you, enjoying watching you suffer. You don't have to spare him."

"Not him," she agreed calmly, "but I do have to spare the person he can turn back into."

And she pulled at the chain again. Valen watched, wishing he could be there instead of her. Nathyrra, silent and withdrawn, watched. She let her two companions come to an agreement and was content to be forgotten at the back of the party. However, she still watched for any sign of further treachery on the priest's part, fearing he might be buying time for Sabal or something.

This time, in the arena, Chama summoned a creature, a dire bear, to battle the troll, and she disappeared from sight after drinking a potion, quickly escaping the creature's notice. The battle lasted for a while, but then the bear finally gave one final hit and fell the troll.

Valen just watched, helpless and silent, when Chama collapsed again, then got back to her feet and dragged herself towards the chains. She drank two potions – healing and endurance, he saw – and was sent again to battle. She repeated the same tactic, summoning an elemental this time. The creature of fire took only two hits to get rid of the troll.

Valen helped Chama back to her feet once she was done taking the last stage of the disease. She could barely stand, and she was going back to that vile arena again. He was still seething.

"There is only one stage left," the priest observed with evil glee, "though I wonder if you will be able to survive it. The pallor of disease colours your skin and the sweet stench of the rotting grave is in your breath. You have come farther than most, but Talona's Fever has ripped away your strength and power. You are a shell of what you once were. I doubt you can survive the final trial."

The Avariel's words lit up a string of pictures in black and red in her mind; she had been a shell before, and this priest did not know the tenth of it. Her old violence shot up from those memories, and she was damned if she would let any of them see how deep those simple and unknowing words cut.

She let out a harsh laugh. "Seriously, if you think I am a shell right now, you have no idea what I can go through. So don't worry about me. You just remember to live up to your end of the bargain."

"I won't betray you. Though you can't really be sure, can you? The fever is in your brain, your thoughts swim in confusion. The trial drains your very spirit, and you are falling into doubt and despair."

"Now don't overestimate yourself, boy." She hoped he would be as infuriated by that nickname as she was by "girl". "I can't really be sure you won't betray me? Very well. If you do, I'll let Valen deal with you. From the colour of his eyes when he looks your way, he'd be glad to. That's something I can be sure of. As for swimming in confusion and all that, I'll have you notice that it is my strategic use of my magical devices which has allowed me to survive this far. Obviously I have not lost all wits. Now, unless you are suddenly afraid and think this disease of your dear Talona needs more time to work on me to really affect me noticeably, you will stop speaking to me and I will survive your final stupid test."

The priest's mouth opened to say something, but he was silenced by a most murderous look shared by both Valen and Nathyrra. Chama pulled the chain.

The fifth and last troll died as had the first, killed by a power word. Valen thought she should have used the summoned creatures first; this way she still had the strength to escape if they ignored the creature for some reason. Chama was on her knees now, not even able to stand on her feet, and she was reading her scroll. Her voice was firm and unwavering as she weaved magic despite the illness. And the troll died, his life sapped away by the word of power.

Chama was back next to them. She started to stagger to her feet and Valen moved to help her, but she pushed him away and stood on her own, facing the priest.

"Poison and disease kill the unworthy, they cull the weak and leave only the strong behind. By surviving Talona's trial you have proven yourself worthy of life." The priest bowed with respect.

"Heal me," she demanded.

He obliged, handing her a vial of antidote.

"Chama, let me take a look at this first," Nathyrra suddenly chimed in, snatching the potion away from the Avariel's hands and sniffing it delicately. It smelled like any other antidote, only sweeter and it was clearer, showing its great potency. "It seems safe enough."

The elf took the potion back and drank it, swaying slightly as it came into effect and chased the fever from her body, leaving her drenched in sweat, weak and trembling.

"Give me the piece of the mirror," she ordered to the priest.

He obeyed.

"Now let us leave. I want nothing more to do with this place of poison and lies."

She turned and staggered to the doors. Valen was watching her closely, and he paused in alarm when she stopped to watch the temple's doors close behind them.

"Chama?", he asked.

She heard it from far, far away, strangely detached. She removed her helmet; she had trouble breathing through it. She saw Valen watching her with a very peculiar expression – her eyes must have been playing strange tricks on her, because his eyes were not fiercely cold and harsh now. They were veiled in grey and clouded with concern. She was still puzzling at this sudden concern etched on Valen's features when she fainted.

Valen and Nathyrra both lunged to catch her before she fell. Nathyrra surprised the unguarded look of worry in Valen's eyes as they were lowering Chama to the ground. The drow startled, but did not dare comment.

"Nathyrra, I'm no healer. Can you see what is wrong?"

The drow quickly assessed Chama's state, checking her temperature, eyes, heart rate and breathing.

"She seems alright," Nathyrra declared. "She's shivering, but her temperature is good. I imagine she only fainted out of exhaustion."

"Let's find a place where to camp. If she doesn't need the Seer's magic, I would rather not lose too much time; the Valsharess already has agents here."

"I agree," Nathyrra nodded. "Let's go back to the defendable corner we rested in earlier. Let me scout ahead. Can you carry her?"

Valen nodded. He let a few minutes of headstart to Nathyrra, then lifted Chama. She stirred and he froze; she became increasingly agitated, moaning and weakly pushing against his breastplate in an unconscious attempt to free herself. Valen smiled slyly; behaviour worthy of any drow – suspicious even while unconscious.

"Please keep still, Chama," he finally whispered as she became weaker, but more agitated. "I am merely carrying you to safety."

She calmed at the sound of his voice, but she was definitely tense for an unconscious person – he wondered if she was not still half-conscious. He carried her carefully and eventually he saw Nathyrra emerging from the shadows and gesturing him to come. She had found their small hollow in the wall of the cliff, and it was still unoccupied and safe. Nathyrra unrolled a bedroll and Valen put Chama down on it gently. He pulled the covers over her and helped Nathyrra to set up the camp.

"Do you prefer the first or last watch?", he asked when they were done.

"The first one. Easier for spells."

Valen nodded and lay down to sleep; this night would be short, without Chama to take one turn of guard.

ooooo

He was confused and not feeling in excellent shape when Nathyrra shook him awake a few hours later. He sat up and saw the drow's tired eyes and moves as she lay to sleep in her turn. After the heavy confusion and sleepiness faded to an acceptable drowsiness, he turned to look at Chama. She was still pale and looked feverish, a thin sheet of sweat wetting her face and gluing free strands of hair on her brow and cheeks. Valen scanned around for any activity, and seeing they were alone and safe, he moved by Chama's side. He wet a corner of his cloak with water from his flask, and wiped her forehead gently. He remembered how the Seer had done the same to him countless times while she was slowly healing him from Grimash't's tortures and his struggles on Toril's surface. He remembered how the tender and selfless act had made the demon reel and fight, how it had soothed the human within. He hoped he could soothe Chama like the Seer had soothed him, but he did not have the Seer's fine and delicate hands. His warrior hands seemed too big to be gentle enough for Chama's frail brow.

Even her brow was frail; her slim limbs, lithe frame, delicate bones, everything in her looked frail. But she was strong. Her will was so great that it overrode the needs of her body. It kept her going when she was worn out by exhaustion. It made her hold on to her incantations even as she was hurt. It held her on her feet and fighting when she was broken by a disease. This strength was not readily apparent, making it more formidable when it finally showed. She had a formidable will, a sharp mind and fierce concentration.

Her power was one of the mind.

Valen's breath caught in his throat. He looked at Chama lying helpless in her sleep. Even when she was unconscious, she was _willing_ to fight against anything – she had tried to push him away. He was humbled before her iron will. He fought with his body, and when his body gave up, he stopped fighting. And so he was defeated.

She did not. She _never_ gave up.

Even though his body was considerably stronger than hers, possessing the tanar'ri's defences and the warrior's training, she fought _harder_. But he wanted to defend her, to protect her. He wished she would not hurt ever again. He wished she never risked death like this afternoon again while he stood by and watched. He wished he could keep death far away from her.

He was dizzy all of a sudden. How was it possible? Chama had changed so quickly in his mind from a distrusted foreseen ally to someone whose safety made his chest constrict. Someone who made his heart break just watching her sleep. Someone he admired for her inner strength, her gentleness, her light-heartedness in the face of adversity, her idealism and her constant struggle for the greater good. Someone he longed to be worthy of.

He found himself yearning. He was not aware of what exactly. It involved human feelings and the sharing of those feelings; and it made the demon half of him reel in revulsion. He closed his eyes, his mind and heart in turmoil with intense feelings he could not disentangle or recognize, mixed with the demon's revulsion towards his sudden softness of heart.

But even despite the confusion, there were two certitudes rising.

He had been wrong about Chama. He owed her an apology for openly doubting her and insinuating that she might betray the Seer's rebels. She had given no sign of deceit, evil, or treachery, despite her heavy past. She had been nothing but concern and compassion. She had shouldered the collar and set to fight besides them. She had taken great responsibility and risk upon herself by exploring the surroundings in search of allies and of ways to weaken the Valsharess's army. She had proven a seasoned adventurer, a competent leader, an ingenious strategist and a powerful wizard.

He owed her an apology for all his distrustful insinuations about possible treachery. He had come to consider her a friend, like Nathyrra or Imloth. In all things, except for their first training session, she had acted trustfully and kindly with him despite his demon half, his attitude, and the difficult circumstances in which she had found herself in the Underdark. That was the first certitude.

The second was that he needed to speak with the Seer. Something about his new feelings was clashing mightily with the demon within. No matter how inadequately he would voice his confusion, the Seer would understand and explain to him. She would help him deal with the demon and master himself.

As he pondered and tried to make sense of himself, time had passed. He scanned around again, in fear something had taken advantage of his distraction to approach, but they were still alone and safe. He looked down at Chama, whose forehead was covered in new sweat.

He wiped her forehead again gently, his hands shaking a bit now. Chama stirred, and he removed his cape from her face. He was looking down at her when her eyes opened. She blinked rapidly, looking up at Valen watching her. His face was utterly serious, his eyes clear and stormy with emotion. He blushed and looked away. She struggled against sleepiness.

"What happened?", she murmured, trying to sit up.

"Stay down," he ordered in a voice low enough not to disturb Nathyrra's sleep. He put his hand gently on Chama's shoulder to keep her down. She moved away from his tender touch and the emotive intensity of his gaze. "You fainted just outside of Talona's temple."

She made a face, wiping her forehead and pushing her hair away from her face. "So much for putting up a brave face," she muttered.

Valen cleared his throat and asked cautiously, "Do you often 'put up a brave face'?"

"If I need to," she shrugged.

He looked seriously at her. "You don't _need_ to. In fact, you should not."

"I doubt you mean that," she replied, lifting an eyebrow. "Showing off the leader as a weakling hardly accomplishes anything."

"You're not a weakling," Valen replied calmly. She flushed violently. "You're a spellcaster. You're strong and tough for a spellcaster, but you stay a spellcaster. You can't expect to withstand the brunt of a battle the way I do."

"Of course I know that," she retorted. "It's just that I won't complain each time I bear a scratch."

"Talona's touch was considerably more than a scratch, but that's not my point," he said, refusing to let the discussion drift in another direction. "I understand that you can't look afraid or cowardly when facing Imloth's soldiers, but Nathyrra and I aren't an army. We're your companions, and to consciously hide the extent of your injuries from us would not only endanger yourself, but also endanger us. We count on your alertness to detect traps, on your dexterity to disarm them, and on your magical firepower. There is no shame in being injured, but we have to know when we can count on your full power and when we must keep harm from you, just like you do with us."

She was blushing. "I-I know." She attempted to roll the other way, but struggled weakly against her covers. Valen gently disentangled her and helped her to roll on her side with a hand on her arm.

"Chama… I know you must be tired, but there is something I need to speak to you off."

She fell back down on her back. "What, Valen?", she asked timidly.

Valen sighed and looked at her with a bit of reluctance. She rubbed her eyes to make sure she read his expression right. This was not "usual Valen".

"I have been wrong about something. I owe you an apology."

"An apology? For what?", she responded dumbly.

He pondered for a moment, thinking a bit belatedly that he might have thought a bit more about this before he actually dove in.

"Ever since the Seer foretold your coming, I have resented you. A little. I think… I think it was more because I wanted to be the one who kept the Seer safe. I had been working so long to save the rebels I did not want someone bursting in and taking all the credit."

"I have no intention of taking all the credit, Valen. I understand how you felt like her defender."

He nodded, grateful of her understanding, at least. He was reassured that she seemed to have already accepted his apology.

"So I convinced myself you could not be trusted," he went on, "that perhaps the Seer's vision was wrong. And yet you have proven yourself time and again. I… am very sorry."

"It's alright, Valen. I thank you for your candour."

"I am glad," he smiled in relief. "It has been good to fight at your side so far on this journey. I begin to believe that perhaps we really will win against the Valsharess."

It hit him just as he said it; he had not realized this. He had always thought his life would end defending the Seer against the unstoppable armies of the Valsharess, her allies and her bound arch-devil. If he did not die fighting this battle… he was not sure what the future held for him. His need to go back and have the Seer soothe his doubts grew.

"I feel I must warn you, however," he went on. "The Valsharess may not even be our true opponent. If she holds an arch-devil captive, he may indeed be far more powerful than she."

"Indeed. I know only too well that summoned fiends are often more powerful than one can handle. It just occurs to me that as a tanar'ri, you might know something about him. Do you?"

Chama's speech seemed slurred, and he realized just how exhausted she was. He made his answer short.

"Little. My old master, however, was a dread Balor, one of the most powerful of all tanar'ri. Yet an arch-devil such as the one the Valsharess holds would laugh at his abilities. I say this because he may be the primary reason that the Valsharess possesses the power she does. If we could find out how she controls him, and perhaps break that control… then we might have a chance. But perhaps it is pointless to speak of this now until we learn more."

He paused while Chama yawned theatrically.

"Rest now, my lady. I will watch over you."

With a last pat on her shoulder, he moved out slightly to stand guard nearer the entrance of their hollow in the cliff, leaving a baffled Chama behind, puzzling at this new way of naming her, and the comfortable ease with which he had stated that he would defend _her_, his tone highlighting that he did not think of Nathyrra's safety just then.

ooooo

He was feeling better while he stood watch. He was fighting sleepiness, but that was nothing he had never done before. The end of his watch was nearing when he heard a quiet rustle behind him. He turned to see Chama walking up to him, rubbing her eyes and yawning.

"It must be around time I take a watch," she yawned.

Valen slipped back inside their hollow gratefully, and was feeling better when he was awoken later by Chama poking his armoured shoulder. Nathyrra was stretching cat-like, looking much better rested now.

"I'm afraid we'll have to stop again soon. I managed to prepare only half my spells."

Valen nodded and gave her an encouraging smile. He was glad she was warning them and not "putting up a brave face".

"Waking in the middle of the night, I guess it's only natural," he said.

She smiled back timidly, and they were off to the palace to meet Sabal now that they had found the last shard of glass that the drow Red Sister had not gotten her paws on yet.


	14. Valen's Confidences

_Hello again,_

_I have a warning to deliver. Due to my posting this at another place, I got repeated requests for "behind the scenes" information on the game plot for those readers who had not played the game. Consider the first two or three paragraphs of this chapter a "catch-up" measure… Those of you who've played the game, please don't be scared away by the journal log at the beginning, it's rather short. I promise that the "journal log" won't be that obvious in the next chapters and they'll flow more easily._

_I hope you still read, enjoy and take time to review this story :)_

Chapter XIII. Valen's confidences

Once the team had found all the shards of mirror that Sabal had not managed to get her hands on yet, they made their way to the palace to find the Valsharess' agent waiting for them there. The Valsharess' and the Seer's factions being equally determined to secure for themselves the powerful artefact, whatever it was, that had pulled the avariel town down to the Underdark, Chama expected the battle to be bloody.

The meeting between the Fool, who acted as something of an arbiter, Sabal's group and Chama's team took place in the throne room of the palace. The room's high vaulted ceiling was designed to let light in through painted glass. While no doubt magnificent when lighted by the sun or the moon high in the clear air of the mountains where the avariel resided, it only gave a gloomy and depressing atmosphere in the greyish brownness of the Underdark. A series of eight pillars supported the high ceiling. Chama had noticed on her first visit that they radiated with magical energy.

The Fool informed both adversaries that the pillars' magic would be awakened and triggered by any artefact powerful enough, and the shards of glass from the broken mirror more than qualified. Sabal had an understandable moment of doubt when she realized that Chama, holding the vast majority of the shards of glass, would have access to most of the power from the pillars.

The battle went well for Chama's side, with Nathyrra using her spells, Valen his flail, and Chama combining the use of the magical pillars and her powerful evocation spells. When the last waves of fiery mist dissipated from the scorched battlefield, Chama strode to Sabal's body and retrieved the last piece of broken glass missing to reassemble the Mirror.

She ceremoniously presented all the shards of glass to the Fool. She helped him fitting the shards of glass in the mirror frame like the pieces of a puzzle. Valen averted his flashing red eyes each time a drop of blood beaded on her fingers from the sharp edges of the glass pieces.

"I wish I could do something for you," Chama said quietly to the Fool when they looked at the assembled Mirror, ready to be empowered again. "I can see no way for my magic to spare you without condemning all of your fellow avariel."

Valen and Nathyrra looked at each other, unsure what she meant. Seeing their incomprehension, the Fool explained, "Once I restore the mirror, I will again be nothing more than a dancing fool. Order must be restored, even if that means I will once again be a fool." There was fear in his eyes.

"You are brave, little man," Valen praised. "I hope your sacrifice is not forgotten when the kingdom is restored."

And, with slightly trembling hands, the Fool cast the spell that would pull the avariel back up on their aerial summits.

Chama was surrounded in a drowning mist and she fought to conserve her foothold in reality. When the mist dissipated, she was back in Queen Shaori's cave, and the avariel and their village were gone. Only the Queen and the Fool stayed behind to do their farewells. The Queen looked adequately regal now, and the Jester was a simple soul again.

Chama accepted the Queen's gratitude and the Mirror of All-Seeing. She bowed graciously to the avariel and left the cave. As soon as she was out of it, followed by her two companions, she heard the incantation for a teleport spell, and she turned to look at the two last winged elves leaving the Underdark.

"My lady?", she heard.

He had seemed to make a habit of this new name, she reflected. She tried to focus, growing progressively detached as the poison coursing through her veins sapped her life away from her.

"What?", she slurred.

"You do not seem well."

"I bet Sabal's bolts were poisoned," Nathyrra remarked.

"They were. I would have already done something about that, but we have no more healing kits or antidotes. I thought it was about time to go back to Lith My'athar anyway."

They started back to where Cavallas' boat was anchored and, about half-way, Chama stopped and knelt.

"I think I'm about to faint again."

She removed her helmet slowly and looked with confused eyes at Valen coming nearer. He saw her fighting against unconsciousness, blinking slowly, and he realized just how close to death she was.

Chama was more than half unconscious, and she saw strange things through her subconscious' eyes when Valen knelt next to her and said something. She perceived his eyes big and clear, like those of a bird of prey, his long straight nose a predatory beak, his horns changed to plumes of feathers. She thought in an unseemly fashion that even if she heard nothing but silence, the usual sounds of his armour were much too loud for him to be one of the silent predators of the night.

But then her strange vision disappeared as he suddenly bent towards her to encircle her in his powerful arms. She startled, trying to move away, but she was too weak and just fell down in the dust. Sound returned to her ears.

"My lady, allow me to carry you. You require the Seer's assistance urgently," Valen repeated.

She nodded. With surprising gentleness, he knelt besides her and lifted her. She was pressed against his metallic armour, but he was careful not to poke her with the pointed ends of his stylish collar. She held her breath in a physical sign of her attempt to push down all of her feelings and memories boiling below the surface, and saw with relief Cavallas's boat appear in sight. Valen climbed the narrow railway and put her down gently near the prow. She let out a sigh of relief, and gladly passed out for the duration of the short and uneventful trip. Chama awoke with a start when the boat hit the docks of Lith My'athar. Valen was still by her side, looking at her with an intense expression. He extended a hand towards her, moving to lift her again.

"No, help me to my feet. Now is one occasion when to put up a brave face."

His eyes clouded in grey.

"You are far too unsteady to climb down the railway," he countered quietly. "The poison of the Dark River would be deadly to you in your current state. Let me get you down the boat, and then I will put you down on your feet."

She nodded, accepting the compromise. He lifted her once more and carried her down the railway in the eerie silence, every inhabitant of Lith My'athar halting when they saw him carrying her. The whispers and activity resumed when he put her down, and she started towards the temple, Valen besides her in case she required assistance. Nathyrra ran off to alert the Seer.

Time and distance stretched in front of Chama in a surreal illusion. She walked, one foot after the other, her vision darkening to red and black. Even though she knew she advanced, she felt as though the distance was interminable. Truly so. She would have cried if not for all the people's stares. She was grateful when she reached the doors at last and Valen opened for her. Her eyes were filled with tears despite her wishes. She slowly walked up to the Seer.

The drow saw her walking with staggering exhaustion. Valen followed behind her, a little to the side, obviously worried and hesitant. _It is happening_, the Seer thought. She healed Chama, and the elf merely took a breath and a moment's pause, before she focused on business again.

"We have found a powerful artefact, Seer. It is called the Mirror of Seeing."

Chama took it out of her pack and presented it to the drow priestess.

"I should warn you, Chamaedaphne… I know something of this mirror. It is a very powerful – but very dangerous – item. What do you intend to do with it?"

Chama hesitated. "I don't know. Can you make use of it?"

"I might be able to, though I would have to be extremely careful with such an item. But I could never ask you to turn such a valuable artefact over to me."

"You do not have to ask, I am offering it. If you can make use of it, take it, and I will be glad if maybe it can help."

She extended the mirror to the Seer. The drow's eyes widened in shock, and Chama smirked. For once, something she had not foreseen.

"I… that is very… generous of you, Chamaedaphne. Thank you. I… will try to put it to good advantage. I dare not use it before the coming battle, for I fear to fall victim to its power. But in the days that are to come it may one day help us to find our way to a better life than this."

Chama was only momentarily disappointed. "I am glad I gave it to you, Seer. I thought it might serve immediately. That you are reluctant to use it shows that you have a greater wisdom than I, and I fear little for you if you know when to use it and when it is better not."

The Seer bowed, accepting the compliment, and then returned it, "That you can see this shows that you have a greater wisdom than you might think. Kneel, my child." She pushed down gently on the elf's shoulder. Slightly curious, Chama obeyed. "Do not fight," the Seer ordered gently, "it is to help in your healing." The Seer cast her spell and Chama obediently fell asleep without resistance. The Seer held the elf's shoulder when she went limp, and looked up at Valen still standing there. The tiefling now looked relieved.

"Valen, would you please carry her to her room?"

The tiefling nodded, knelt and gently lifted Chama. The Seer and Nathyrra followed him when he went up the stairs and into Chama's room. He stayed just long enough to put her down on her bed gently, and he left so the drow women could make Chama more comfortable. He waited in the corridor in front of Chama's door for a while, uncertain, until the Seer came back and took his arm to guide him to her antechamber. She could feel his confusion and the intensity of his feelings, and she guessed correctly that he wanted to talk.

The Seer's antechamber was a small study simply furnished and adorned in black and silver; it was the place the priestess used to meet those of her followers in need of guidance and, occasionally, to hold meetings and receive reports. As soon as she was alone with Valen, and the door was closed behind them, the weapon master asked anxiously, "Is she going to be alright?"

"Of course, my good Valen. I have healed her, and she will rest tonight."

"I don't doubt your healing capabilities," Valen hastily specified, frowning deeply.

"Then what is it you are doubting?", she inquired softly.

She was surprised to see him blush. "I doubt she is herself. She would never _allow_ herself to pass out if she was not more than halfway to the gates of death."

The Seer pondered for a while. "Maybe she doesn't allow herself to pass out, but permits others to order her to, when the command agrees with her desires."

Valen chuckled. "I will remember this. I have no doubt that I will have ample occasion to order her to rest or something of the sort, and we shall see if it is not simply _you_ that she is willing to obey."

A silence stretched, and finally the Seer stated, "Something happened while you were there. You look at her in a different manner than before, and you are intensely troubled."

He smiled ruefully. "Am I so transparent?" She smiled kindly. "She was poisoned by arrows and bolts a first time, yesterday. And after that, she was touched by Talona. Today, she was sickened a third time by Sabal, a Red Sister."

The Seer gasped in shocked anger. "How did Talona extend his hand to her here?"

"One of the avariel was a priest of Talona. He was entertained by watching her fight against sickened creatures in an arena while she was crippled by the disease."

"How did she survive?"

"She used spell scrolls and wands to kill the creatures thrown at her, and potions and enchanted objects to keep the worst of the disease tolerable." Valen's eyes had hardened, but they remained blue. His regard, his voice and his countenance all hinted to his restrained fury. "There were five rounds of fights," he explained further. "Afterwards, the priest healed Chama and gave us a piece of the Mirror. She was walking steadily when we exited the temple. She wore her helm and it was hard to tell that she had suffered at all from the disease. She closed the doors of the temple, and she fainted. Even so, she still tried to struggle when I carried her to the secure location Nathyrra had chosen to set up the camp. That's why I say that Chama would never have allowed you to force her to sleep unless she was seriously injured."

"I think she was," the Seer agreed smoothly. "She must have been exhausted from the three poisons affecting her in as many days. But you blush. Why?"

His blush darkened to a brighter shade of red. "I don't know, Seer. I am embarrassed to have carried her three times. I don't exactly feel as thought she welcomes it."

"But she accepts."

"She… she _allows_, yes."

"You are troubled."

He sighed. "She troubles me, yes." He blushed at the admission. The Seer waited for long seconds, and eventually he went on. "I don't know what to make out of what I feel for her. At first, I was suspicious, but not anymore. I have observed her closely; she is a powerful ally and I trust that she is truly dedicated to our cause. I admire her idealism. I… don't know what I should feel."

The priestess smiled kindly. "Valen, you must know what your feelings are."

"Do I?", he asked ruefully. "I barely know her."

The silent admission was not even disguised.

"Of course," his drow friend answered, "but you will get to know her better as you continue your travels together."

The Seer was grinning and looking much like a teenager matchmaker in Valen's opinion. The whole experience was totally alien to him.

"Is this supposed to help me with my confusion?", he asked, half-mocking, half-frustrated.

"I would expect things to become clearer with time," she countered softly. "I see you're not denying yourself, so things will sort themselves out, one way or the other. Everything will be fine, Valen, as long as you don't deny yourself."

Valen's features hardened and threads of yellow started to twist in his irises. "But how can I not deny? How can I accept? I… am vulnerable when she is near. My demon half does not agree with the way I feel when she is there. The infernal part of me denies mightily. It leaves me confused and disgusted of myself for unclear a reason. Then how can I not deny?"

The Seer was suddenly thoughtful. "I'm sorry, I should have understood this sooner. You should realize, however, that whatever you do and whatever the infernal part of you says, you will never stop being human."

"I would like to think so, but in the Abyss, there was nothing in me that was human."

"That is not true. Even then, you took the decision of getting out of the Abyss. You had to be partly human. You can never be only demon or only human. You will always have to accept a part of you, and live with the feelings of the other. You need not be ruled by the demon, nor do your human feelings, but you will be influenced. But do not look so desperate. I am telling you that it is normal to be influenced by the feelings of the demon, but it will not keep you from experiencing some of the best aspects of mortal life, such as what you might come to feel for Chamaedaphne, in time."

Valen sighed. "Thank you, Seer, I know your words are meant to soothe me." It was clear, however, that he was not feeling much better than when he came in, and that he felt like being alone now.

"Don't worry overmuch," the Seer concluded. "Trust me, things will sort themselves out." She was willing to let him go; there was only so much she could do for him. There were things he needed to think out for himself.

He nodded, bowed and left, leaving a thoughtful Seer behind. _You are always so wise, my Goddess._ If Chamaedaphne could make the human in Valen know love, then what could Valen accomplish for Chamaedaphne's soul tormented with guilt?

The Seer smiled sadly. The road had not been easy for either of them. Maybe that is how they could find solace in each other now, after a long, winding and treacherous road.

ooooo

When Valen went to his room afterwards, he saw Deekin, asleep on the floor with his crossbow just outside Chama's door. Valen squinted in the dim magefire light of the corridor, but his eyes had not tricked him; there _were_ reptilian wings protruding from the creature's back. He shook his head; a red dragon disciple? This kobold bard held many mysteries. Not that Valen was overly curious about them.

ooooo

Imloth gave a reproving glare as Nathyrra walked closer. She was back in Lith My'athar for two hours already, but she had run around between stores for all this time before finally coming to tell her old friend the last developments in their adventures.

"Hey, Nat! I heard he calls her 'my lady' now. Is that true?"

The drow assassin nodded and Imloth noticed how tired she looked. He relented slightly.

"Didn't you think of poor old me who would have preferred to learn it from you, not from one of the temple's guards?"

She shook her head. "I'm sorry, I thought of armour to be repaired, rations to be bought, clothes to be washed, packs and quivers to be restocked, maps to be copied…"

She gave him a piece of parchment. "The plan of the avariel's isle. It could be a good refuge if necessary, it's remote enough and easy to defend."

Imloth nodded and accepted the map. "Thank you. Doesn't Valen usually take care of weaponry concerns?"

"Yes, but he needed to talk to the Seer. He was looking so troubled that I didn't have the heart to ask him to take care of equipment."

At that Imloth was concerned. "Troubled?"

"Unstable. You know what I mean."

_Everyone_ in Lith My'athar could recognize Valen's "episodes" of torment. There were days when the infernal part of him was agitated, and people knew to avoid baiting or irritating Valen in those circumstances.

"But he looked sad, not angry," Nathyrra specified. "Really, he was a sorry sight. I hope the Seer will calm him a bit."

Imloth nodded, but seeing Nathyrra did not appear _too_ eager to run for a well-deserved rest, he insisted, "So, what happened out there?"

She suddenly grinned impishly.

"Well, you see, there was this avariel priest of Talona. He hurt Chama pretty hard, and she fainted afterwards. Valen carried her. You should have seen his eyes… all grey from concern. I'm sure that's when he decided to call her 'my lady'."

"Now, that's what I call gossip worthy of my notice…"

"I am wounded, Imloth, that you accuse me implicitly of losing my touch. But that's not all there is to it. We went to the palace after that, and…"


	15. Climbed up here?

Chapter XIV. _Climbed_ up here?

Chama slept like a stone throughout the night. When she woke the next morning, she was physically well, but restless. Moreover, her spells were flat, after two nights without convenient preparation, and the team was stuck in town for another day. There was no good excuse to exhaust herself at training and she could hear in her mind Drogan's scolding voice anyway, ordering her sternly to take a rest once in a while.

She slipped out of her room, stepping silently over Deekin's sleeping form and smiling fondly to herself. The kobold would have woken at the slightest sound but that of her footsteps; it seemed he could detect her presence through his slumber, because he hugged his crossbow closer and sighed contentedly in his sleep. He had grown wings while she was away, no doubt gaining assurance because of his responsibility to the kobolds he trained. She hoped his wings were symbolic for more than his bardic craft.

She moved to the temple's main room, and asked one of the pages to find Nathyrra and Valen and tell them they had a day of freedom.

After she took her armour to Rizolvir, she looked around for any idea of what to busy her day with, again hearing in her mind Drogan forbidding her to use her circlet and ring. A higher peak in the surrounding cliffs caught her eyes, and she realized she missed the forests. She had lived long in cities, so she was used to deny the pull, but that lonely outcropping of rock seemed like a place of quiet where she could feel some degree of communication with the "nature" of the Underdark.

She walked to its foot, then around the base a while, looking up for the best route. She gave a last look around her, making sure no one was there to see her antics, and started to climb up the vertical face of rock.

Soon she was panting and sweating comfortably, her body set into the rhythm of sustained exercise. The illusion of freedom she experienced when she climbed, suspended between earth and sky like this, was always a powerful call. She was careful not to give in to it as she had so many times before. She just climbed, peacefully tasting the pleasure of her skilful and graceful ascent.

But suddenly she heard something, and stopped, flattening herself against the cliff wall, straining her keen ears to try and identify the sound's source. She recognized it almost immediately. Not many people in the Underdark had Valen's height and bulk after all. She let out a sigh of relief not to have been caught by a hostile creature, alone and unarmed. By the sounds of his booted feet scraping the stony ground, his grunts of effort and the loud clinks of his armour, she knew he was training. She pondered briefly what to do, but it would have been foolishly risky, in her current state of fatigue, to climb down. So she started up once more.

When she arrived near the edge leading to a flat near the summit, she was faced with a zone of friable rock, so she had to move laterally until her holds were safe again. She was now in a very difficult place where the rock actually climbed steeper than the vertical, and her breathing soon came in a ragged whistling, her hands slightly slippery with sweat.

It was a relief when she finally reached the edge. She dragged herself up, until the ledge of stone was comfortably under her elbows, and looked up to see Valen training. He was drenched in sweat too, swinging his heavy flail about, practicing his whirlwind attack against the air around him. The show ended exactly then, though, because Valen suddenly saw her, cried out in shock, and his flail went flying out of his hands.

"Chama! Why didn't you cry out for help?" He was already next to her, grabbing her arms and pulling her up. In a careless display of strength, he grabbed her arms near the shoulder and lifted her completely, her feet dangling in the air, turned and made a few steps, then set her down on her feet, further from the edge. "What were you doing there? How long have you been suspended like that? By all the devils of Baator, you're shaking. How much longer were you planning to hold there?"

He guided Chama, stunned by all these words – surely it was the longest discourse she had ever heard him make – to a nearby bench, where he sat her down before fetching his flail a little further away. He stood in front of her, crossed his arms over his broad chest, and prompted, "Well?"

"I… felt like climbing."

An expression of utter shock registered on Valen's face. "You _climbed_ up here? Aren't you aware there's a trail? And why, in the name of the Nine Hells, did you do that?"

She burst out laughing under his incensed glare. It was a hysteric attack of laughter. She rolled from side to side on her bench, then wiped the tears from her eyes and managed, "Oh, by Mystra, you sound like master Drogan!"

Valen had not lost his countenance. "Then I would surmise this master Drogan also urged you to show more wisdom in your actions."

She sobered. "He did, and I did listen to him… most of the time... not quite, but oh well, when it was really important. And you, what were you doing here?"

He was surprised by the sudden turn of the conversation, finding himself on the receiving end of questions. "I was training to pass the time. I volunteered for a turn of guard. This place is called the Lone Peak, and it's a permanent watch post."

Chama looked out at the landscape stretching out in the darkness below her.

"No advancing armies yet?"

"No, but… I still would like to know… you really climbed up here?"

She sighed. "Yes. It looked like a quiet place with a view, so I decided to come take a look."

He looked at her strangely. "If you were drow, I would say you're about half drider, walking on walls like that. You have a taste for danger."

"This isn't as dangerous as you make it sound. I know not to try myself against walls too hard for me."

"I was sure you had fallen and were waiting there, suspended, for who knows how long."

"Sorry to have worried you."

With a start, he realized that it was true. He struggled for a second against his rebellious demon, and said, "It's alright, I just jumped to conclusions… but I guess I couldn't _expect_ to see someone arriving here by that road." Then, to change the subject, "Who is this master Drogan?"

"One of my teachers in the magical arts. He used to train pupils in his house in Hilltop. I was one of them. While I was there, there was an aspirant paladin, Mischa; a dwarven thief, Durna; and a half-orc sorcerer, Xanos. Drogan… taught me much. I owe him a great deal."

There was an air of melancholy on Chama's face.

"I notice you speak of him in the past," Valen remarked gently. "Why is that?"

"The obvious answer," she sighed. "He died."

"I'm sorry. I can hear in your voice that you held him in great affection."

"Yes, I did. And… thank you. It's strange, but it's the first time anyone expresses sympathies for my loss. He… he died so Durna and I could have passage in a portal we needed to cross to fulfill a mission given to us by the Harpers. He was one of them and he believed in their causes. He gave his life for them… and for us."

"A courageous man," Valen praised. Chama nodded silently, looking off into the distance and wrapped in memories.

"I think… that he was to me what the Seer is to you and Nat… He brought me back from the brink, from the life I once led." She paled and paused, looking away into the blackness. "I hope you understand now how I could never betray the Seer."

"My lady, please doubt my judgement of you no longer," Valen said softly. "I know… I _trust_ you to fight loyally on our side, because I have come to know you as we have travelled together. I see that the Seer was right and my doubts, unfounded. I didn't need to know about Drogan to be convinced of this."

Chama looked at him thoughtfully for a long time. "Thank you, Valen, for your trust. I assure you that I will do everything within my power not to disappoint you. The Valsharess will be dealt with."

"And I assure you that I will do everything within my power to help you."

Chama stood and extended a hand that was still slightly shaking from exhaustion. "Then we are agreed for a new beginning." She smiled wryly. "On better footing, I hope."

He smiled and shook her hand in his big paw, with his fierce strength. "Agreed, my lady."

A young drow suddenly appeared on the plateau, on the side opposite to the cliff; he was obviously the next watcher, and he arrived just in time to see them shaking hands.

"I think I'd take the trail now," Chama grinned. "Would you show me the path?"

Valen gestured her ahead and nodded to the guard as they passed by him. They were a bit further down the trail when Chama spoke up.

"You know I had a strange vision of you while I was in the fever's grip?"

Valen blushed and chuckled. "Really?"

"I saw you with a bird's features."

He frowned, puzzled. "A bird? The feathers and wings?"

"Not exactly. More the beak, eyes and horns… you reminded me of a great horned owl."

He lifted a pensive eyebrow. He would usually take great offence at being compared to an animal, but he found no objection against owls. They did not strike as feral and enraged.

"I'm telling you because I know sooner or later I will call you Granduc without noticing."

"Granduc?"

"The elven name for the great horned owl. It must have been subconscious, but it fits you so well that I can't help but think of you with that name now."

Valen didn't exactly know what to answer.

"I wouldn't mind such a name, I think."

Chama nodded and blushed. They walked the rest of the path in silence.


	16. Nightly Troubles

_Due to another story in progress in another fanfiction category, I'll be updating this once every two weeks instead of each week as until now. I hope you keep up with the story and keep reading and reviewing :)_

Chapter XV. Nightly troubles

Chama checked on Gulhrys's progress that afternoon – everything was going fine for now, and the new obelisk was nearing completion – and then spent the night in the public house where Deekin performed, watched raptly by a score of kobold refugees turned soldiers. Neither Valen nor Nathyrra wanted to come and watch the show, which amused and saddened Chama a bit. Nevertheless, it was good to hear Deekin's music again, even his Doom Song which was totally inappropriate for the setting. It emptied half the place, but those who left were soldiers with a sudden and irrepressible urge to go training. Chama had no doubt they would find themselves much more deadly than usual.

After this quiet night, she prepared her spells fully, slipped her helmet back on, and woke the next morning for the first time in three days with her head filled with magic. And the team was ready to set off again.

They explored around Drearing's Deep that day. This small village west of Lith My'athar was filled with self-proclaimed "free people" who acted like nothing but slaves and appeared harmless enough, but Nathyrra was positive that the undead legions of the Valsharess originated from this unseemly settlement. Chama's team discovered a worrisome temple at one end of town, and they decided to take a night of rest before they went in. The group of adventurers left the town to set up a camp, afraid to attract attention from the temple if they spent the night too close to it. Valen and Chama waited while Nathyrra scouted around, and finally the drow came back and guided them to a hollow in the rock with an easily concealed entrance.

They set up the camp mostly in silence; they had the habit now and did not need to speak to each other much. Chama ended up with the first guard. She settled near the entrance with her spellbook as her companions drifted off to sleep. Despite her necessary studies, she found her gaze repeatedly drawn away from her formulas to where Valen lay, as it had for the past few nights. It never ceased to amaze her that he managed to sleep at all in that armour of his. Even abandoned in his sleep like this, he did not look inoffensive in the least; the armour was not concealment enough for his muscled arms and chest. Even without the harshness of his eyes, there was something fierce and utterly determined in the line of his set jaw and powerful neck.

But the evidence of danger was not all there was to see. She knew how his face transformed when he smiled, how his eyes were no longer harsh but only intense and clear. She knew his strong arms could be gentle – he had carried her after all.

Still, she struggled with her two-headed emotions. She tried to understand how she could find him attractive even as he scared her. She had been wondering for over a tenday, each night as she stood guard. She had promised herself a long time ago that never a male would have her under his power. She had held that promise for a long time. She had allowed master Drogan to direct her for a time, but she was never at his mercy, and he was not one to abuse her trust anyway.

Valen, now, was another story entirely. She could not defend herself against the warrior should the need arise. Moreover, he was half-demon, a veteran of the Blood Wars, and very capable of violence. But it was not his potential violence or possible lack of control that was putting her at his mercy. It was her own fault. Her own feelings.

She was perfectly aware that she was putting herself in that situation, and she was afraid of allowing herself to let go of her old promise. It had been long enough since the events triggering that promise, and she was older, wiser, and more at peace with herself. She knew it was foolish to forever hold all males at arms' length.

But surprisingly, it was not her old promise that held her back the more fiercely; it was her even older fear. The obvious danger shrouding Valen in an intimidating aura. How could she find him attractive even as she feared him?

The same question swirled in her head, tormenting her fragile peace, for nights now. Each time, she tried to ignore the attraction which had turned into friendship and was now turning into something much more committing and intense. But each time, she looked at him and she could not deny her feelings, because it threatened her inner peace more than the two-headed torment.

The result was that she had not slept much in the last tenday. That night outside Drearing's Deep a thought suddenly struck her. _This surely is my punishment for all that I have done._ Thinking on the punishment she herself had inflicted on some she had been a victim of, a dark amusement curled her lips into a self-deprecating smile. _I guess my punishment could have been worse._ But then amusement fled, leaving her uneasy and sad. She was not denying or refusing anything anymore. She was seized in panic as the fragile security of her old promise was gone, leaving her alone and afraid, adrift a dark ocean of which ways she knew nothing.

She turned away from Valen, her heart pounding, her breathing quick and heavy, and tears stinging her eyes. _You're a fool. How could it be a punishment if it wasn't so bad?_ Then she snorted to herself. _Imagine that, it's only you. You haven't even considered him yet._ Cold sweat suddenly covered her body. _Has he noticed? How would he react? What does he think about me? He certainly warmed up in the last few days._ She shut her eyes tightly. _You're not standing guard very well. Get a grip._ She opened her eyes, blinking back the tears, and looked around carefully. The Underdark spread before her, dark, dusty, menacing, and quiet. Still, the insidious voice whispered at the back of her head. _This surely is my punishment. Such turmoil. Not even when I…_ She shot her mind's door on the coming images, the gaping mouth on a silent scream, the spraying blood, the glazed eyes… _Never did I feel so tormented._ She took a few breaths and surveyed the surroundings, still devoid of all living things.

_If this is my punishment, then so be it. I have earned it and more. These intertwined feelings are something I can live with. Badly, but I can._

She spent the rest of her guard squirming and wiping her cold and wet hands against her robe, trying with dubious success to focus on the watch. The sandglass, a gift from Drogan, eventually ran out, and she was shaking when she went to wake Valen for the next guard.

He sat up and frowned, looking at her with concern in his eyes.

"My lady?", he whispered. "Are you alright? You look feverish."

"O-oh, do I?" She brought a shaking hand up to wipe her forehead nervously, not meeting his eyes. "I'm not. I'm just…" She shot him a look, his quiet concern quickly turning into a more serious expression. She sighed and her shoulders slumped. "I'm sorry, I'm just… thinking of the past. Sometimes I can't help that." She trailed off momentarily. "I didn't want to force you to see that."

Valen put a hand on her shoulder. "I understand. I don't like to expose my past at all times either." He looked at her intently, the nervousness and fear and torment written in her eyes. "I know it must sound strange coming from one such as me, but… I offer advice, if you will hear me out, my lady?"

She chuckled. "You have no idea how many people tried to 'advise' me. I have found that good advice is scarce and comes from unexpected people. So… what advice do you offer?"

"I have no good advice to offer on my own. I just wanted to suggest talking to the Seer."

She looked at him strangely. "The Seer?"

"Yes. She… is a friend to me. It is surprising how she can put me at peace with myself when I am… tempted by the infernal part of me. I think she could calm you, even if your uneasiness does not sprout from a demonic half." He smiled faintly.

"I always think of her as the leader, but I should not forget that she must be very wise to be her goddess's seer. I… will think on your suggestion, Granduc. Thank you."

Valen blushed slightly at the nickname, but nodded and, after one last pat on her shoulder, went to take his post near the entrance for his turn of guard. He sat in the entrance of their rocky hollow and had to resist the urge to turn around and look at Chama. He was sad to see her like this. He wished she would talk to him about what troubled her; after all, after a bit of insistence on her part, he had told her about his demonic master Grimash't and his escape from the armies of the Abyss. Then Valen heaved a loud sigh. He had not really insisted, had he? He had not even offered to hear her out. Eventually, he turned around to look at her. She was curled into a ball, lying on her side and her back on him. It was impossible to tell if she was asleep or not. He had his head turned, trying to judge from the rhythm of her breathing if she was sleeping, when someone hit him on the head from behind.

He merely grunted as he was knocked off his seat, his ears ringing like a cathedral's bell and blackness threatening to engulf him. He shook his head, trying to clear the black from his vision, just in time to see a vicious-looking drow male, violet eyes alight with a dark flame, taking a run-up for his two-handed dire mace to smash his skull.

Valen rolled aside quickly, already tensing to push himself to his feet despite the ringing and dizziness, when suddenly there was a loud roar and a great yellow light. A fireball flew past him to smash into the assassin's chest. The drow flew back under the impact, leaving Valen with a split second to spring to his feet and evaluate the situation.

Chama had not been asleep – that much was obvious, since she had cast so quickly. Amidst the darkness clouding his vision, Valen could discern eight enemies: the male warrior, and seven Red Sisters. He blinked a few times, steadying his battle stance and his grip of his weapon.

The drow warrior got back to his feet, brushing is armour in a studied gesture of indifference. Looking at it more closely, Chama could see it was made from dragon's scales. _Avoid elemental damage against this one_, she noted to herself. At least the fireball had been useful by the force of its physical blow.

The drow spoke. "So. What have we here? None other than the very one who hampered the attack efforts in Undermountain, it appears. We have been looking for you for a while, elven female, but we certainly did not expect you to fall right into our hands."

"I'm not down and dead yet," Chama answered calmly.

"Be careful, Chama. I know Eldath, this male, and he is very dangerous," Nathyrra whispered in her leader's ear.

The elf nodded, indicating she was taking the warning very seriously. "Hold Valen's left," she muttered in answer.

Nathyrra moved; Valen was obviously in no fit state to hold the first line alone. After one last challenge by Chama, Eldath and his accomplices pounced down upon Valen and Nathyrra.

The tiefling held his ground as best he could, wrestling with dizziness and sickness much more than with his enemies, fighting to the best of his impaired skill to keep Nathyrra safe from Eldath's hits. To his relief, Chama kept breaking the attackers' lines with fireballs, and soon the Red Sisters were as confused and hurt as Valen. The mage finished the battle quickly with one of those volleys of magical projectiles of glowing energy, burning holes in the drows' chests.

Valen willed himself to keep standing for a few seconds more while Chama activated an ioun stone to make sure there was no hidden assassin waiting for an opening.

"There's no one else," she declared.

Valen sank to his knees and retched, the world swirling wildly about him. He felt hands holding back his hair and testing carefully the back of his skull, where he had been hit. He did not try to get up from his hands and knees.

"He managed to hit you hard and true," he heard Chama's voice. It was her hands then, so soothing as they played through his hair. "I would never have survived that. I guess Nathyrra's right. He was very dangerous."

A wet cloth was pressed to the base of his skull, the healing magic warm and itching against the wound.

"Don't move yet, it will kick in in a few seconds."

He grunted his agreement, becoming increasingly aware, as pain lessened, of her hands in his hair, her flowery perfume he could not quite identify, and that something was definitely wrong with him.

"I can sit back now," he told her, lifting a hand to hold the cloth. His fingers intertwined with hers briefly while she transferred the cloth to his hand. He leaned back on his heels, trying to look around him, but a black mist partly hid everything. A hand on his cheek forced him to turn to Chama's worried face.

"Valen, look at me, please," she ordered, her voice heavy with concern.

"I'm trying," he answered, blinking owlishly a few times to bring her face into focus. "Something's wrong with me."

She was looking into his eyes, and he was beginning to feel like he was floating. He would have wanted to abandon himself and drift away looking into her velvet black eyes. The demon, however, writhed in a corner of his mind, screaming and kicking. Valen could barely hear him now, and that forced him to acknowledge exactly how badly injured he was. He wondered if he had ever been that hurt before. Not even after months of torture had he felt so close and so willing to just drift away. He clung to the sight of Chama's eyes.

"I think I will soon lose consciousness," he warned her.

"Hold on a moment yet," she requested.

She brushed her thumb across the pearly white stone of a pendant he had never seen her wear before, and a soft light suddenly appeared in her hand. She held his chin and lifted the light to his left than right. He saw her velvety eyes widen in surprise and concern. Her hands suddenly started to shake as she let go of his chin and gave him a potent healing potion.

"You're right, something's wrong with you, and it's something I can't fix with a healing kit and a few potions. We must get you back to the Seer. Drink this. We need you conscious. We can't drag you all the way back to Lith My'athar."

He paled a greener shade of white at that. "I'm sorry, but I don't think I can…"

"Of course not," she cut worriedly. "I have a shortcut available. But please, _do_ drink the potion before you pass out."

He drank the potion. He felt the pressure inside of his skull, a pressure he had not noticed before then, lessen to some degree. The black mist that veiled his vision thinned somewhat. Chama stood with her elven, cat-like trademark grace, and fumbled with the strange device attached to her left shoulder. She fed it a rogue stone and the device glowed. Then she turned to Valen.

"Please hand us your gauntlets and belt," Chama asked.

Nathyrra was back and Valen realized he must have blacked out at some point, because the tent and the rest of the camp were packed. Valen stared at Chama in confusion.

"We need more strength if we're to carry everything and help you and your armour to walk."

He gave her the gauntlets, which she handed to a silent Nathyrra. Chama put the belt on when he gave it to her. She shouldered his pack and Nathyrra, the tent and gear. Both women bent to help Valen to his feet. Nathyrra let out a groan of effort and Valen apologized.

"Be still a second," Chama panted, fumbling with her shoulder device once more. Suddenly Valen felt the familiar heap in his insides indicating they were taken through the planes.

They landed in a small, enclosed space delimited by steely walls, floor and ceiling.

"What is this place?" he asked curiously. "This looks like some kind of demi-plane. How did you get access to this place?"

"Long story. Could you please concentrate on not crushing my shoulder with your weight and getting yourself to that gate over there before you pass out?"

Nathyrra chuckled. Valen concentrated on walking, trying not to lean too heavily on either of the elves supporting him. His head had started to feel heavier again and the black veil was quickly diminishing his range of vision.

Chama opened the door she had pointed earlier, revealing the blue shimmering horizon of a planar gate. They stepped through and suddenly found themselves in Lith My'athar's temple, interrupting brusquely one of Imloth's reports again.

The Seer gasped silently when she saw them arrive. She had never seen anything that could force Valen to need help to walk like this. Even when broken from months of torture and a terrible battle against Grimash't, he had kept to his feet alone, held by defiant pride more than anything else.

Chama and Nathyrra helped Valen to sit down and the Seer was before him in a second.

"He was hit on the head," Chama informed the healer. "There's a problem with his blood; his pupils don't dilate at the same width and rate."

He was uneasy to hear of his condition in so cold and well-chosen words. The Seer lost no time in choosing a treatment. She almost immediately started to cast a spell and Valen was soon surrounded with sparkles of white magic. When the sparkles died, he felt the pressure inside of his skull vanish. Incredulous, he shook his head and noticed he still held the wet cloth at the base of his skull. The cloth was dripping from his blood now.

"Thank you, Seer," he exclaimed with heartfelt gratitude. He would have caught her hand, but his hands were bloody, so he just looked up at her.

The drow smiled kindly and patted his armoured shoulder. "Think nothing of it, my good Valen. You should thank Chamaedaphne however. Her use of the asarum root was sensible and her assessment of your state, accurate. Tell me, Chama, you combine many different skills: rogue, wizard, and now healer? Where did you learn the ways of the healing magic?"

The elf shifted nervously. "Here and there in my travels, as I met healers willing to show me. I learned quickly. I guess my blood made it easy for me; my mother was a priestess."

The Seer saw Chama's reluctance and did not push further. She just nodded and turned back to Valen. "You should be careful for a few hours. You should not sleep for the next ten hours, and if you feel dizziness, come back to see me."

The warrior nodded and sighed, a bit unhappy to be ordered so, but cleric's orders were cleric's orders. He turned to his leader.

"I apologize. I should not have been surprised during my watch. It won't happen again."

"It's alright," she told him with a kind smile. "Anyone would have been surprised by someone of Eldath's skill. I'm just glad there were no unfortunate consequences."

He bowed, still mortified. Maybe she would not be so lenient if she was aware that he had been hit because he was distracted while he watched her. Chama let out a sigh and turned to Nathyrra.

"Since we're here, we might as well go help Gulhrys. Do you want to come?"

"Of course. And you, Valen? What are you going to do?"

The warrior shrugged. "I can only imagine there are plenty of reports to review with Imloth."

Nathyrra smirked. "Still the army's leader in facts, I see. Good luck though. Wish for us not to blow ourselves in the High Wizard's lab."

Valen chuckled. "Good luck."

They parted ways at the temple's gates, and the Seer marvelled at the team they made up now. She did not see them in the many days they spent out of Lith My'athar, and so she observed the change only in steps; each time it was a surprise. What Imloth had repeated of Nathyrra's gossip was true: they were soothing each other after all.


	17. The Seer's Reassurances

Chapter XVI. The Seer's reassurances

After six hours spent helping Gulhrys, Chama was quite fed up with beholder phrasing, and she declared that she was tired and would retire. Nathyrra and Gulhrys were only too happy to have an excuse to call it a night, and so the wizards abandoned their work on the obelisk for the time being.

On her way back to the temple, Chama spotted Valen down by the soldiers' barracks discussing something with Imloth, and suddenly her nightly troubles resurfaced in her mind, coupled with her centuries-old guilt, anger and fear.

As strange as it seemed, Chama inclined towards following Valen's advice and going to seek the Seer's council. The only problem was that she could not bring herself to speak about the cause of the torment awoken within her by her feelings for Valen, and she would be just too embarrassed to state to anyone knowing him that she found him attractive. That sorely limited the amount of guidance the Seer could provide. Yet, maybe there was a part of her troubles that she could speak about without retching or being embarrassed beyond words…

She hesitated as she pondered, but after her decision was taken, Chama continued towards the temple, carefully taking the back door to avoid Deekin no doubt waiting for her in the main hall – she did not have the energy to speak with him now.

She stalked the temple's back corridors until she reached the Seer's door. Chama took a breath and knocked. After a few seconds, there was movement in the room, and the drow opened with a kind and caring smile.

"I… I needed to speak with someone," Chama whispered, shy to state it out loud.

The Seer opened her door more widely and invited the elf in. Chama slipped in with her thief's litheness. The Seer's quarters were spacious and functional, but devoid of the exaggerate luxury that the elf had come to associate with drow architecture. Chama observed them, having had only a short glimpse when she had flown to the Seer's rescue a few nights ago, only to discover that the priestess' distress was only caused by a vision.

The door opened into a small study where the Seer invited Chama to sit. Through an open archway, Chama could steal glimpses at the bedroom, with its wide but simple bed flanked by a small table and a chest of drawers. Chama slipped in one the study's chairs, and the Seer sat across her, resting one delicate ebony hand on the table grossly carved in rock that stood between them.

"What is troubling you, Chamaedaphne?"

"I… think I need council. Reassurance. I don't know."

"What about?"

Chama closed her eyes. She could never speak of her feelings or doubts while looking people in the eye; she feared their regard and the judgement that sometimes lurked there.

"I know you're a seer," Chama muttered, forcing the words out one at a time, "so I guess my past is not as secret from you as I would wish it to be."

"I know not what happened to you in the past," the Seer denied kindly. "I have sensed a great pain, a greater vengeance and a greatest guilt, but I do not know what gave you this pain or these regrets."

Chama took a relieved breath, and suddenly she realized how she could speak of her past without making any references to Valen or the events themselves. "I think I would prefer to avoid the details. It is just that… that sometimes I think the guilt will crush me, but I know it is only a small punishment for all that I have done. My _sleep_ is ruined now, but I have ruined many _lives_ in the past. But it is cruel to… to acknowledge that at all times. And yet… I cannot forget all I've done, because if I forget I will become the same person I used to be. I am… I am afraid of the anger. Like Valen, who can't give in to the anger because it summons the demon within. If I am angry… dark thoughts surface once more, and they seem all the sweeter because they have long remained unanswered. But… but there are times when I almost can't help but being angry. I… how am I supposed to react, Seer? What am I to do to banish anger?"

"My child," the Seer began firmly. Chama wondered in an unseemly fashion how old the Seer was to call her "my child". "You do not have to banish the anger."

Chama lifted her eyes to the Seer and the elder drow continued, a kind smile on her lips. "You are but a mortal, Chamaedaphne. Mortals have a right to happiness and anger. Eilistraee is a benevolent goddess, and she teaches that all of us have a right to be flawed. There are situations when anyone would be angry, and you are no different."

"But I am, Seer," Chama protested, closing her eyes again. "I did what I did. Allowing anger to take me over would make me fall again."

"It does not have to be so. Your past is your past, and it does not rule your present. Even my goddess has seen and shown me that you are very different now than you once were. Anger is a sane emotion for a mortal. We need the anger to keep pride in ourselves when we are hurt, or to have the will to fight for a just cause. You only have to be careful to choose your anger's reason carefully."

Chama held her eyes shut tightly.

"Chamaedaphne, you have been walking into darkness for so long. I know you have been plunged into it against your will, then you revelled in it for a time, and now you keep to it deliberately. You pull yourself down with a guilt you cannot carry. Guilt should be the path back into the light, not the chains bearing you down. We all do things we are not proud of."

At that Chama choked briefly, her chest contracting painfully. "I did not do things you would not be proud of, Seer. I did things that would make a tiefling weapon master of our acquaintance blanch."

Chama spoke with such conviction that the Seer herself paled, but Eilistraee had been firm in her vision – the Light of Cania, whatever that meant, was before her.

"Whatever you have done," the Seer pleaded, "the guilt should show you that you are redeemable, that you have changed your ways. The guilt is the way. Eilistraee tells us that there is a bright moon waiting for us on the surface when we exit the Underdark. She tells us that, whoever we are, there is a possibility of happiness and peacefulness. Even for you, Chamaedaphne. You just have to accept it."

Chama had her eyes closed, but tears were slowly falling down on her cheeks. "But how can I ever be happy after what I have done? How can I ever be so heartless as to forget?"

The Seer shook her head. She moved her chair closer to the elf and put an arm around Chama's shoulders.

"You must not forget. You must forgive yourself. It is not the same. You can forgive yourself your mortal fallibility."

Chama cried, her eyes still shut tightly, and the Seer gently rocked her for a while. It was long before the adventuress calmed, opened her eyes and looked at the Seer. The drow priestess could imagine the words stuck in the elf's throat.

"You're welcome," the Seer said with a smile.

Chama flashed a very surprised but amused smile and nodded. She squeezed the Seer's shoulder gratefully before returning to her own room, feeling inexplicably at peace despite how little she understood the Seer's words. She imagined they would come to hold meaning, in time… She took a bath, to wash the tears and the magical grime of Gulhrys's lab away, and then dressed again in her old robe of fire resistance.


	18. We should come here more often!

Chapter XVII. We should come here more often!

Chama wandered aimlessly around Lith My'athar a while to reclaim her serenity after her intense interview with the Seer. After a few minutes, she suddenly realized she should avoid the surroundings of the public house. She was too tired to talk with Deekin right now, and he must be looking for her if he had heard she was back in town. She veered towards the docks brusquely, and almost ran into Valen coming around the corner. Valen gallantly flashed a hand out to steady her when she stumbled back, but her lightning reflexes were quicker and she regained her footing alone.

"Sorry," they exclaimed at the same time.

There was a bit of an awkward silence and Chama manoeuvred around the corner to get out of sight of the public house. "Where are you going?", she inquired.

"I was tired of Imloth's reports, so I was going back to the temple to see if the Seer could not be convinced to let me sleep a while."

"I don't think she would."

"Me neither," he sighed with frustration, "but I need an excuse not to go back to Imloth and his tons of reports."

"Do you play chess?", she asked suddenly.

"I do, although I'm not a very skilled player."

"Would you like a game? You have to stay awake after all."

He hesitated a bit, but not for very long, and blushed. After all, he _did_ wish to spend time with her aside from the time they spent fighting for their lives.

"Well… yes, I would like a game."

She smiled. "Good! I don't carry a board though. Do you know where we can find one?"

"I know Imloth has one. Let me ask him."

They walked back to the training grounds, where Imloth was drilling his recruits as always. The commander smiled knowingly at Valen and told him he kept his board in his room in the temple. Chama followed Valen silently and waited, immobile in the shadows at the corner of the temple, until he came out with the board under his arm. It was one of those boards that could be folded in half to make a box holding the pieces.

"Do you know a place where we could play?", she asked.

Valen pondered the question thoughtfully for a while. "We could go back to the Lone Peak. It's quiet and I'm sure Imloth's soldiers wouldn't mind being replaced for a while."

She nodded and they headed towards the trail's entrance.

"Do you climb there often?", she inquired.

"Fairly. I used to go there to ponder the tactics and intelligence. Strategy is Imloth's role now though. With all he's shown me this afternoon, I can tell he does a great job."

"Do you miss being the army's leader?"

He considered, rubbing the back of his powerful neck distractedly. "Not really. I am satisfied to be where I can do most for the Seer's cause, be it at the head of the army or now adventuring with you."

"I admire your dedication."

"Thank you," he answered lightly.

They climbed the rest of the way in silence. When they reached the watch post, the soldier on guard duty was sleeping.

Valen silently handed the chess board to Chama. He smiled grimly and let his eyes turn to a blazing red. Chama observed amusedly when the tall tiefling walked heavily, with his chain mail clanking and clicking neatly, towards the soldier napping slumped against a rock.

Needless to say, the guard woke rudely to a most unnerving sight. He jerked up at the sound of clinking armour, jumping to his feet with a drow's spring. He tried valiantly to stand to attention, even though a cold sweat was starting to bead on his forehead and his hands were visibly shaking.

"Attention!", Valen snarled menacingly.

The poor soldier almost bent his back backwards in an attempt to stand straighter.

"Your name?"

"M-Makaveneth, of House Mae'viir."

"You shall be disciplined for sleeping on watch duty," Valen decreed in an ominous tone of voice. He let the silence stretch – and the soldier sweat – a good long while. "If I ever catch you at it again, I will show you how I used to discipline my lazy underlings in the Abyss. Now, report to commander Imloth. I will let _him_ decide your punishment… this time."

"Th-thank you, sir, I assure you…"

"Do _not_ waste my time with your excuses," Valen growled, taking just half a step forward to better tower over the squirming guard. The poor drow took a hasty step back. "Report _immediately_ to commander Imloth. Unless you wish my assistance to take the shortcut involving the cliff?" He completed the threat with a meaningful look at the gaping void looming just beyond the cliff's edge.

The soldier yelped and ran off to the trail. Valen watched him go with a smile, though it was a highly disturbing sight since his eyes still glowed with a malevolent red. Finally, the tielfing's eyes reverted to blue and he grinned impishly, genuine and inoffensive amusement on his face.

Chama could not quite smile. She shook her head. "I am so glad not to be one of your soldiers."

He frowned. "Why?"

"I think such treatment would give me a heart attack."

He smiled kindly. "That is totally untrue. You would narrow your eyes and send me flying with a fireball. Do you remember the first day when you arrived in Lith My'athar?"

"Of course. How could I forget?"

"I was doing more than trying to intimidate you. I was plainly and simply attacking you. I have seen you react to pressure and it was not with fear. It was with pride and defiance. Besides, I am convinced that you would never give me reason for such anger. You are much too smart to sleep on watch, and I have seen that you are never lazy."

She blushed, but flashed a roguish smile. "Do I hear a compliment under all this, Sir-Military-Discipline?"

"Well, you should, miss-I-never-give-up, because there is."

They smiled at each other and Chama gestured to the board she still held. "Shall we play?"

Valen set up the board on a rock and they seated themselves on the ground on each side of it. It was slanting slightly, but not enough to make the pieces fall off.

He gestured to the board between them. "The lady can take the whites."

She shrugged and moved a pawn. Valen looked at the board, frowning in concentration, and moved one of his own pawns.

After a few moves only, she said, "I'd like to ask you a question, but I'm not sure if I'm going to embarrass you. If I do, please forget I asked anything."

"Very well, my lady… what do you wish to know?"

"You spoke of the first time we met a few minutes ago, and it reminded me of something I had forgotten until now. I think your eyes turned red when you started towards me. Is it really what happened, or was it just my imagination?"

"No, it is true," he answered with a bit of reluctance.

"What had I done to anger the demon part of you, so he could break free from your control?"

Valen slowly took his hand away from the board, forgetting the game for the time being. He looked at Chama for a while.

"You did not anger the infernal half of me. It is hard to explain… You were standing there, looking at me and expecting your death at my hands… or so it looked to my eyes," he hastily corrected.

"I _was_ standing there waiting for my death at your hands. My spells were flat, and you were obviously a capable fighter."

He nodded. "But suddenly… you were defying me. You were not afraid, either of me or of impeding death… I thought you were stronger than you gave yourself credit for, because you had the strength of character to stand up to me even as you awaited death. And so… the human half of me could not strike at you. The only thing the human half could do was let the demon take control and strike at you, because I was determined not to let anything happen to the Seer."

She had not expected something that heavy as an answer.

"I-I didn't know," she stammered.

"You couldn't know," he murmured, before bringing his attention back to the game. After he made his move, though, he spoke again, his tone lighter now, "I think we made an equally formidable first impression on each other back then; you were convinced I could kill you easily, and I was stunned by your unwavering determination."

She chuckled. "Yes, it appears so."

She moved her bishop, and they resumed the game. They were half-way through when she decided to speak again. "You play very well. Where did you learn?"

"Grimash't, my demonic master while I was a slave in the Abyss, taught me. He believed that each of his lieutenants should be competent at chess. He was convinced it was some kind of proof of our tactical abilities when leading troops on the battlefield."

"I see. Do you agree with his views?"

"I don't know. Although I remember that I was learning chess and training for the whirlwind attack at the same time, and chess did help me to master the whirlwind attack. So I guess there was some sense in Grimash't's beliefs."

A thought suddenly occurred to Chama. "Is it he who trained you as a weapon master?"

"Not Grimash't personally, no. It is his army's weapon master, a death knight called Sherenz, who trained me." He moved his knight and she reacted instantly, making him realize that she had been manoeuvring him into that move. She moved her bishop, and he found his queen impossible to save. He sighed.

"You really bested me here. I can't believe that I didn't see this coming."

"Me neither. I think I have just discovered what advantage I _do_ have over you. I have a better concentration; I can speak to you without losing attention to the game. Or maybe it's the subject itself that distracts you. I know I made a mistake the first time I spoke of the Abyss to you. Do my questions now bother you? I don't mean to pry."

"It's alright." He was touched by her thoughtfulness. "We know each other better now, and I know you don't mean to insult me. I think I owe you an apology for my behaviour back then."

"No, you don't. _I_ apologize for having been so tactless. I hope you can forgive me?"

"I forgive you, and I apologize for reacting like an uneducated, temperamental and moody brute. We should be even now, don't you think?"

She grinned. "Well, one more misunderstanding we just dealt with. We should come here more often, don't you think?"

Valen laughed. She realized she had not heard him laugh often. The sound made her heart give a strange lurch, which was completely unexpected but not totally unpleasant.

His eyes sparkled impishly when he extended a hand.

"I would propose a toast to solved misunderstandings, but we don't have any glasses. Will you shake my hand as a manner of… of replacement?"

She was out of the mood suddenly, but she gave him her hand, trying to smile her best. He took her hand over the game board and, to her surprise, brought it up to his lips. He caught sight of her face while he was lowering her hand and immediately apologized.

"I'm sorry, I presume too much. Please, forgiv…"

"No," she breathed, and Valen fell silent. _Now whyever did I say this? Now I have to explain my words!_ "You have not offended me. You have surprised me a great deal and I… am not used to such treatment. I just… didn't know how to react immediately."

He cleared his throat. "I will try not to surprise you so again." Although his thought were more along the lines of "I will try not to surprise you so _badly_ again".

"No," she repeated, and visibly struggled for words. "I like to be surprised in that way, and it's good that someone finally considers me enough of a lady to kiss my hand. It's just that I'm really not used to it. I hope I didn't scare you away completely?"

He had not kissed so many ladies' hands in the past – willingly, that is, not counting demonesses or Matron Mothers with a whip nearby – so yes, he was feeling a bit scared away.

"No," he lied politely. Her answering smile, however, was warm and relieved, and worked some magic on him to make him forget the past awkward minute.

He was still sitting there half-dazed when she gestured to the board again. "Your turn."

Valen bent over the board in thought, focusing on how to minimize his losses now that his queen was condemned. He lost the game, but not by much. They started another game, and he decided to try a more defensive strategy. This worked much better, and he realized that she played on instinct, without training. He had no doubt that she would beat him completely and utterly with just a few days with a master. They were about half-way when this time Valen spoke up.

"And you? Who taught you chess?"

"I learned a long time ago… as a child, from my parents. I left home very young though, and never really played since then."

"I can tell," he replied with mock superiority.

"Really? How?" She, however, was serious.

"Your style is disorganized and relies on improvisation. You don't recognize easy and classical many-moves strategies, but you nevertheless predict and plan many moves ahead. You're not aware of your body language."

She smiled ruefully. "That bad, uh? Are you letting me win?"

He laughed. "Not at all. Your strategies are clever – you won the last game beautifully – and you have a talent to see ahead, but there are many things that show that you play by instinct rather than training and habit."

"Well, I feel my instinct won't save me this time."

"You haven't lost yet."

They played on in silence for a while.

"You said you left home early. How old were you?"

"I was four," she answered distractedly, moving her only remaining tower.

"Four? But you must have been a child. Especially since you are of elven blood," he protested.

She smiled up at him slyly. "Four _decades_-old."

"Ah… oh," Valen said, suddenly wondering _how_ old she was. He scrutinized her face quickly, finding no hint in her ageless features, before he realized she would understand what he was doing and he embarrassedly lowered his eyes to the board again.

"You're too polite to ask," she remarked slyly, "but I'm forty-three. If you prefer, four hundred and thirty-six years-old."

He grinned. "Well, I'm certain Rizolvir would advise me to keep silence when discussing age with a lady, but I will disregard his opinion. You still look young to me, my lady."

She laughed. "Rizolvir is involved with… shall we say… a _drow_ lady?"

"Yes, she is a follower of Eilistraee, but she is still a very _drow_ lady. You have met her, actually. She works at the temple; she prepares potion brews for the Seer."

"Ah, yes… But don't worry, I won't think of giant spiders, collars or whips if you say what you _truly_ think of my age."

He blushed at her directness and obvious amusement at his expense. "I really don't think much. It is difficult for me to guess at elves' ages, so I don't usually try. You just did not strike me as especially young or old."

She chuckled and let it drop, tilting her head and concentrating on the game. Valen beat her this time. She stood to stretch her heavy limbs and shook his hand in congratulations.

"Congratulations, and thank you for this game. It was good to speak of something else than battle with you for once."

Valen grinned back at her. "I agree."

They had to wait a few minutes until the next guard arrived. When he did, they nodded to him and left together, doing companionable small talk.


	19. Traitor!

_Hi!_

_Just a little warning, work is crazy as hell these days, so the updates will probably slow down somewhat, but don't think it means I'm giving up on this story. I'm not. Absolutely not. Thanks a lot to everyone following and reviewing this regularly despite the slow updates these days._

Chapter XVIII. Traitor!

"So, what do you intend to do for the six or so hours left of your prescribed waking time?", Chama asked, rearranging the pieces in the chess board so it could close properly.

Valen shrugged, and started walking when Chama caught up with him. "I don't know. Maybe a recruits' drill, or reviewing reports and such with Nathyrra. But not Imloth. I'm going to be sick if I have to review just one more possible route for supply lines."

"I don't think the Seer would agree for a drill…"

He let out an exasperated sigh and shot her a "I-already-know-that-but-can't-you-allow-me-my-wishful-thinking" look.

"But reviewing reports appears alright," Chama grinned back, "even if very boring. I'd like to be there, but _unfortunately_ I have to check on Deekin and his marksmen, before my favourite bard starts running around town and asking for me. He must have learned I'm back in town by now."

"Indeed he must have. The creature skittering about and badgering anyone about your whereabouts would be most unnerving," Valen agreed dryly. "If I check on House Mae'viir's troops, and you monitor the progress of our kobold allies, I think we could declare that to be an exchange of services."

She chuckled. "I think I'll agree with th…"

But then she cried out and whirled around, her naked hands clutching at the air behind her. Valen instantly unhooked his flail, and his warrior's eyes spotted the wicked dagger's hilt protruding from her back. He blanched, knowing how deadly such a hit was; just below the last ribs, it had stuck either the liver or the kidney. Either way, she had a few minutes at most to live if her wounds were not tended to.

What he had taken for empty air was in fact a grey cloak that obviously offered magical assistance to melt into the shadows. Chama had managed to grip it, and the drow assassin spun free, shedding its cloak in favour of a quick escape. Valen charged after the running male, but a volley of globes of energy flew past him. The purple energy missiles struck the assassin unerringly between the shoulder blades, despite the drow's wild leaps to one side and the other in an obvious attempt to avoid any projectiles directed at his back. The impact staggered him and he violently fell face first on the ground, his back scorched by Chama's spell. Valen hardly spared him a glance; he stopped and warily turned to examine his surroundings, because they tread a narrow path lined with rocks large enough to hide a man. And suddenly an unseen attacker hit him on the side of his skull.

His head exploded with pain and he saw a flash of white. When he came to his senses, he was on his knees and he was deaf. His nose was bleeding. But only a fraction of a second had passed. He shot to his feet and spun, meeting the other's mace with the chain of his flail. This second assassin was a female. A female he recognized. He caught her weapon with a twist of his flail's chain and disarmed her. She instantly drew a dagger and crouched into a competent fighting stance, but she knew what awaited her, and Valen could smell her fear in her sweat. He forcefully quelled the rising of his demon blood.

"I have no mercy for traitors," he spat, but deaf as he was, he heard no sound.

He struck.

ooooo

The Seer was officiating the evening prayers honouring the rise of the moon in the central hall of the temple when brusquely the large double doors burst open. Everyone turned, hands instinctively searching for weapons. The Seer stopped in the middle of her sentence, the words chased from her mind by the sight that greeted her. Valen staggered in, flanked by Imloth and another captain, carrying an unconscious Chama.

The Seer and Valen locked eyes. Valen's eyes were the blackest night. She had never seen him with that colour of eyes before, but the set line of his jaw and the grim line of his lips revealed that it was the colour of utmost determination. As they exchanged a look over the worshippers' heads, his eyes reverted to their usual cyan and turned back in his skull. He collapsed. He all but dropped Chama as he neared the ground and the two of them lay in a heap of armour and limbs.

A worried murmur ran in the assembled drow when the Seer ran to her defender's side, flying over the smooth tiles covering the floor. She quickly looked Valen and Chama over. Valen's eyes, nose and ears were bleeding, and she feared for an instant that her earlier healing spell had failed in the long run, but then she saw the huge lump on the side of his head, just over his left ear. He had been hit in the head again.

"Imloth, help me move him," she demanded.

The drow commander deftly crouched on Valen's other side and helped her turn the huge tiefling on his back to remove his weight from Chama's body. The elder drow examined the elf; her pulse was faint, her breathing shallow, and much blood covered her back. These injuries were more urgent, but easier to treat, than Valen's wound. A simple spell would do; the Seer cast. Chama jerked awake, sitting up and on instinct violently pushing the Seer away.

"Easy, Chamaedaphne," the drow soothed, turning back to Valen immediately.

Chama brought a hand down to her side in confusion and sat there unmoving for a moment. Slowly she turned and observed the Seer tending to Valen with numerous spells and herbs brought by an acolyte. Suddenly Nathyrra and Deekin burst in, the double doors flying open and banging loudly back against the walls. Deekin's wings twitched as though he would land off at any time and Nathyrra was breathless.

"What happened?", the drow assassin asked.

Something came back to life in Chama's mind. She lunged and feverishly clutched Valen's limp hand, looking up hopefully and fearfully at the Seer.

"He was hit hard on the head again. Is he going to be alright?"

"I believe he will," the Seer reassured her kindly, "but it might take some time. Please, let me concentrate now."

Chama let go of his hand slowly, then turned to Nathyrra, staring at her intensely.

"Get everyone out, now. Secure the temple against spies."

A dark light appeared in the assassin's eyes; Valen's injury clearly resulted from some treachery. Chama probably knew something of it, if she requested that the temple be secured.

Nathyrra turned to the assembled worshippers. "You heard her. Out, now."

She emptied the temple of everyone – followers, acolytes, servants, officers. Even Deekin left, declaring with uncharacteristic loudness that he would find anyone who had hurt Boss. Nathyrra did her best to close windows, doors and secret passages, and to examine every concealed spot she knew of. Then she went back to Chama, still observing Valen's treatment and occasionally assisting the Seer.

"Chama, what is it?"

"Just before I passed out, Valen said something to our attackers. He said he had no mercy for traitors. I'm forced to conclude that they are supposed allies in Lith My'athar, but I didn't recognize them." Then she stopped short and cursed loudly. "I'm a fool. They've had time by now to retrieve and get rid of the bodies."

"No, don't worry about that, Imloth and two of his captains went up the Lone Peak in search of them as soon as you two were safe in the Seer's care," Nathyrra informed her.

"I should commend Imloth more. He has really good ideas in crucial matters," Chama noted thoughtfully. "But for now… you do understand that if Valen should not recover or… come to further harm while unable to defend himself, we will likely never learn their identity?"

"I understand perfectly," Nathyrra declared haughtily, "and I will ensure his security at all times. But I have to point out that _you_ were likely the target, not Valen. While it would be safer not to leave any witnesses, no one but us knows for sure that Valen can identify the traitor. They'll probably try to come back for you though. So I will ensure both your safety."

Chama nodded, but they were interrupted by the Seer sitting back on her heels and sighing tiredly. She wiped her forehead with the back of her hand, looking drawn.

"There, that is all I can accomplish for now," she said. "He should be alright, but he needs to rest. We should move him to his room, but I am afraid he is too heavy for us alone."

"He's not," Chama countered quietly. "Just give me a moment." Chama fumbled in her scroll case a short moment and fished out a sheet of parchment. She used it to conjure a magically floating disk that conveniently came into existence just under Valen. The disk was just tall enough to lift him, with his head and legs dangling over the edge. "I can get his head. Seer, if you would just make sure his arms don't fall off." She tossed a potion over to Nathyrra. "Bull's strength, in case his feet are heavy."

The three women manoeuvred the floating disk carefully to climb the stairs and go through the room's door. When she conjured off the disk, Chama realized she was in a man's room. She took a quick, embarrassed look around. It was neat and tidy and she wondered fleetingly if all demons let law rule the order of their room in military discipline. The room was also impersonal enough. No clothes were lying scattered about; all were stashed away, well hidden in the closet. There was no aesthetic decoration whatsoever aside from the armour stand proudly displayed in the best-lit corner of the room.

The Seer gently straightened Valen's head on the pillow and gave his heavy chain mail a reproving look. "He won't rest well like this."

She began to undo buckles, soon imitated by Nathyrra and Chama. Quickly, the three women stripped him of his mail, and then they began to remove the leather armour underneath. Chama soon noticed that it was only a linen shirt he wore under the leather, wet and clinging to his skin; she caught a glimpse of the taut muscles of his lower arm. She blushed self-consciously.

"Shouldn't a male be doing this?", she asked. "I'm sure Imloth…"

"The temple is secure," Nathyrra objected immediately. "We shouldn't let anyone else in before we've taken precautions regarding this room."

"No, Nathyrra, we can trust Imloth," the Seer spoke up with conviction. "He has been with us for thirty decades. He has earned our trust. But he is on the Lone Peak right now, and I'm sure Valen wouldn't mind being put comfortable by us."

"At least he doesn't have to worry about being abused in his sleep like with some Matron Mothers," Nathyrra giggled.

The Seer smiled and Chama, embarrassed and slightly reluctant, helped them to remove Valen's leather armour. _At least I don't have to remove his pants_, she thought as some wicked sense of humour finally returned to her. She helped the Seer to slip Valen's arms out of his leathers, and turn him on his side to remove it from under his back.

"Now we're like his brothers who put him to bed the first time he got real drunk," Nathyrra jeered and unceremoniously dropped his armour pants on the top of a nearby chair.

The Seer chuckled, and even Chama smiled slightly.


	20. Dealing with the Traitors

_And a long one to compensate for all that time without updates! Work has slowed down, so I should be able to update regularly again… _

_Thank you for reading! Please review :)_

Chapter XIX. Dealing with the traitors

Nathyrra arranged for the secret accesses to Valen's room to be blocked and their exits guarded by people she trusted. She stood guard herself by the door, and Deekin by Chama's door. The bard's devotion to his beloved Boss made him leave even his new kobold friends to look after her. That is, when Boss wasn't watching over Goat-man.

Valen remained unconscious for a day and a half. The Seer, her acolyte and Chama took turns at sitting up with him.

It was Chama there when he awoke. She was studying a beholder phrasing that kept Gulhrys from finishing the enchantments. She was deeply concentrated on her spellcraft, sitting with a book and a scroll on her lap, when suddenly Valen grunted and brought his left fist up to rub his eye, like a child. She extended her slim spellcaster's hand and put it over his right hand, still resting by his side.

He startled and opened sleepy eyes to look at her. She rolled her fingers around his tall palm. And then he smiled, closed his eyes again and squeezed her hand back. She let go slowly, shaken by the blue of his eyes, his contented smile and his hot fingers trapping hers gently.

"I am so glad to see you alive," he whispered in relief.

"_Me_?", she exclaimed incredulously. "You were worrying about _me_? Do you know what the Seer had to do to ensure you would ever wake up again, and hear again?"

He opened his eyes again, his relieved and sleepy smile fading away. His expression slowly turned grim as the events came back to him. He tried to sit up, but dizziness forced him to pause.

"Hey, go easy," she advised gently. She rearranged the pillows behind his back so he could sit.

"How long have I been out?"

"About forty hours."

"It's a miracle nothing happened to any of us in the meanwhile. Did you go check on Gulhrys?"

"I didn't dare. I heard what you said to our attackers… You recognized them, didn't you?" He nodded. "I told Nathyrra and she made sure nothing would happen to either of us. Valen… who were they?"

His eyes were fierce and harsh. "I don't know the male, but the female was the eldest cousin of Matron Myrune. She rose by the matron's will and cannot hope to be matron herself one day. She therefore is one of the few loyal allies the matron can be sure of." His eyes hardened, but did not change colour. "They have dared to plot to kill you. Are you well? You were stabbed in the liver…"

"I'm fine; the Seer healed me. Still, I think I should have told you something earlier. Right now I can't die."

He frowned. "Of course not. You've already accomplished much for us, but without your drive we won't defeat the Valsharess."

She laughed. "Thank you, Granduc, but that's not what I meant. You remember the device on my shoulder?" He nodded. "It's something I found in the Plane of Shadows. It is somehow connected to the demi-plane that you have visited briefly. As long as I keep rogue stones to feed it, it will bring me back to that demi-plane as soon as I am about to cross the threshold to death. It will also allow me to come back, either to Lith My'athar, to where I fell, or to any other location I have marked with a binding."

Valen nodded knowingly. "Ah. This demi-plane must be some type of nexus then. Either that or it hosts a gate builder of great power."

"The Reaper says it's a nexus. Anyway, I just wanted you to know that you don't need to worry about me too much."

"It is reassuring," he agreed. "But do you know the nature of this device?"

She made a face. "Not in the least. That's why I use it only in cases of emergencies. I don't like the idea that it may have a limited number of uses, or a curse that comes into action after some time, or I don't know what."

"That's probably wise. I can try to examine it, if you wish. Maybe it will remind me of something, as an outsider."

"I'd like that, but not now. We've spoken long enough already. You should try to sleep a bit more now. I'll send an acolyte or the Seer in to make sure you're alright."

He nodded silently as she headed to one of the secret passages leading out of his room. He wished he could have caught her hand again, but he had had no occasion. His hand still felt imprinted by the contact of her slim, cool fingers curling about his palm. He had thought it was a dream. But then he had realized, _what a way to wake up_. Doubts had forced his eyes open, however; Chama would not hold his hand, would she? But she _had_. His heart fluttered. Although it was just a friendly and brief squeeze, it still meant a lot to him. It meant that she cared that he was alive. It meant she considered him a friend and had forgiven him his initial lack of trust. It meant he had a chance to convince her to continue travelling with her once she defeated the Valsharess.

He smiled to himself. He didn't even bother with the "if" part anymore.

ooooo

Nathyrra, standing guard by Valen's door, stood out of the shadows and bowed when a worried Seer rushed to her.

"Where's Chamaedaphne?", the Seer asked.

"Watching over Valen… why?"

"Because she isn't. One of the pages just came to see me. She ordered him to come tell me to go check on Valen, and then she webbed him and fled."

Nathyrra's eyes went wide. She opened the door, startling Valen who fumbled under his pillow for a concealed dagger. Seeing that Chama obviously was not there, the drow cursed loudly.

"What's happening?", Valen asked, visibly exhausted merely by his frantic search for a weapon.

"Glad to see you awake. Chama's missing," Nathyrra explained succinctly.

The tiefling's eyes clouded with heavy grey. "Voluntarily or not?"

Valen struggled to pull his feet over the edge of the bed, but the Seer quickly halted him with a hand on his shoulder. "Whatever you think she is gone doing, you are in no shape to aid her," she declared sternly. "Tell me, why do you wish to follow her? What do you think she is attempting?"

"Nat, close the door and make sure we are not listened to, please." The drow did so, quickly scanning the room. When she nodded to him, he went on. "She went to destitute Matron Myrune. It was her cousin who attacked us on the Lone Peak." He turned to Nathyrra and they exchanged an intense look.

"I'll get Imloth to watch your door," the assassin decided. "I'll try to catch up with her."

"Don't kill a single guard if she's not there," Valen ordered. "If she fails, it will complicate matters."

"You think she can fail?", Nathyrra exclaimed, appalled.

"Tebimar is a very capable fighter, and we saw her disastrous fight with Mekefal." He shook his head in helpless frustration. "I'm not there, Nat."

Nathyrra paled slightly, but nodded and stalked off, melting in the shadows. Valen fell back down on the bed, shutting his eyes tightly.

"Don't move, and try to calm down," the Seer soothed. "I have to divine if everything is well with you."

Valen made an effort to steady and slow his breathing, and he let the Seer tend to his healing wounds.

ooooo

"Chamaedaphne!", Gulhrys purred when the mage came into his lab. "A pleasure to see you, my lady… Have you solved our problem?"

He noticed, then, that something was wrong. Something deathly danced in Chama's step, and a terrible storm raged in her black eyes. He very carefully avoided getting in her way.

"As a matter of fact, I have. We were stating it reversely; in imperative form in the beholder tongue, the complement has to be put before the verb of action. See, like this: _seretel a le menaki fer lo alcari mel_."

Her words appeared, glowing, on one of the blank parchments littering Gulhrys's desk. He marvelled at the beauty of the powerful and flawless enchantment, but he did not congratulate her. She was obviously not in the mood and Gulhrys knew quite well when not to irritate a female.

Her eyes were boring into him. He lowered his head, trying not to cause her ire to fall on him exclusively. She broke the tense silence, speaking in the beholder tongue.

"Do you wish to forward your status?"

"I am always willing to forward my status, honoured female," he answered carefully, keeping his head bent. It did not appear she was offering him to become hers, although it was a possibility. He found himself dreading that possibility. He had experienced first-hand that females were acting completely differently with males and with _their_ males. Chamaedaphne had not struck him as stormy and cruel, but if this was Chama's way to deal with _her_ males, or would-be males, then he thought he had ample reason to fear her proposal. He had been attracted to her from the beginning because she was a proud and challenging spellcaster. He had not wanted to get involved with a moody female; he had been careful all of his life, and he would be disappointed in himself if he had been attracted to a cruel female in the end.

"Are you willing to risk your current status and your life for it?", she went on.

He lifted his eyes to her face that time. He gave her a carefully appraising regard. His ambition could smell that the plot she was about to expose did not concern at all a change in their relationship. Gone, dread and disappointment.

"We should switch to sssrathlisss if we are to discuss dangerous details. An ambassador to the beholders might be able to understand us," he explained in sssrathlisss. "What are you planning?"

She smiled grimly. Her black eyes transformed into icy pools of blackness; the sight was chilling, even to a drow. "Not much planning is involved," she sneered. "I am leaving in a few minutes, without further plan, to put your highest female – your mother – I dare not say her name here – to put her out of politics. I have a feeling she won't be reasonable, so I expect trouble. Will you come with me? I am certain her heir would be very grateful to you…"

"Such actions are dangerous for a male. The heir's rewards are not guaranteed."

"I told you that you had to risk your life and status. I thought you were daring and ambitious; should I change my mind to cowardly and meek?"

Gulhrys took a breath, lifting his chin and pulling himself up to his full height.

"I am neither cowardly nor meek!"

"Then act accordingly, male," she snarled. "Take me to the highest female."

The High Wizard took his staff and stormed out of his lab, the darthiir in his step.

ooooo

A few minutes later, Chama exited the Mae'viir tower by the main door, followed by a billowing cloud of dark smoke. She crossed Lith My'athar with heavy feet, heavy heart and grim face. The temple's doors were still secured and guarded by two of Imloth's captains. They opened the doors when she came nearer, though, and she strode in.

Nathyrra, no doubt alarmed by the sound of the opening doors, suddenly melted out of the shadows.

"Chama! Where in the Nine Hells have you been?"

"Where do you think? Have you spoken with Valen?"

The drow nodded, her grim expression indicating that she had indeed guessed where she had gone.

"So… what happened?"

"Neither Matron Myrune nor Tebimar will betray us again," Chama stated. "You can open up the temple again. Now, if you'll excuse me…"

The Seer suddenly appeared from behind the stairway, where a quick access to Valen's room was hidden.

"Chama, you are injured!"

"Don't heal it," the elf snapped, batting the Seer's hands away from the bloody gash on her shoulder. "You shouldn't have to heal murderers. It's a wonder the geas won't keep me from doing that."

The Seer admonished herself for being so slow at catching Chama's mood. She put a hand carefully on the other arm of the elf to keep her from storming off.

"Wait, Chamaedaphne. You are not a common murderer."

The elf let out a strangling sound, and then cleared her throat. "I certainly hope no such thing as a _common_ murderer exists."

"I mean that you are not someone who kills out of cruelty. You only do what you must. Would you call Valen a murderer?"

"No!", Chama exclaimed. "That's not…"

"Yet he has killed many more than you in his life."

The Seer fought hard to keep her ground faced with Chama's furious black eyes.

"You don't _know_ how many I have killed in my life. Don't dare to think you know my past just because your goddess shows you glimpses of the future when she feels like it."

At that the Seer had to take a breath to control her anger. The Seer's anger disturbed Nathyrra; she had never seen her losing her temper before.

"Do not blame my goddess for the failings of her servant, Chamaedaphne. I will not tolerate this blasphemy." The iron in the Seer's voice was formidable.

But Chama's will was no less formidable. "Fine. I should have said: don't dare to think you know my past just because your goddess shows you incomplete glimpses of the future at confusing times."

"I do not like your tone, but there is more important to consider at the moment," the Seer declared, her voice dripping with poison. Any Matron Mother would have been proud to be able to produce such a voice. Suddenly, though, the formidable Matron Mother that the Seer could have been faded back to the kind-hearted drow that everyone in Lith My'athar followed. "Something stirs in you when you speak of the geas. What does the geas have to do with you dealing with known traitors who have tried to assassinate Valen and you?"

Chama suddenly startled, her anger visibly dissipating, and she blinked, turning away.

"Leave me be," she said, pulling on her arm.

The Seer tightened her grip slightly. "Answer me," she ordered.

Chama's temper flared again. "Let go of me!" Her free hand started to glow with yellow flames.

"Answer me," the Seer repeated sternly, unimpressed.

"It has nothing to do with it! Nothing!"

"At least you are telling the truth now, but why have you spoken of the geas earlier?"

"What do you care!"

"I care that you are a mortal and that, as a Seer of Eilistraee, it's my duty to do what I can for mortals when they suffer!"

"I would not suffer this scorching heat in my right hand if you weren't clutching at my arm! Now let go of me!"

"Is it the first time someone tries to understand you, Chamaedaphne?," the Seer exclaimed in alarm. "Did you have to come as far as the Underdark to meet someone determined to be a match for your temper to help you?"

The elf startled violently, and a fireball shot from her right hand, flying through the room to crash upon one of the pillars. It set the tapestries on fire, and shook the whole building down to its foundations.

There were tears on Chama's face now. "Let me go," she pleaded.

"I have not held on for so long to let go now," the Seer stated, gently placating. "What is this with the geas?"

The silence stretched. The Seer feared someone would crash in to see what was wrong before the elf had emptied her heart out. The fire spread to nearby tapestries, and the Seer thanked her goddess that the temple was constructed in stone and not in wood, like the one in the human city of Waterdeep.

"It has been my perception since the beginning that the geas is some kind of measure that forces me to do good," Chama finally exposed. "What it actually does is forcing me to fight on your side, which is a slightly different constraint, but as you see, I confused the two."

"Chamaedaphne… the geas could not alter you. You are strong and I am sure that, if you were determined, you could fight it. You do not have to be forced by a spell to do good."

Chama closed her eyes, shook her head and opened her mouth to speak, but the Seer did not let her say a word.

"Please, trust me, Chamaedaphne. I have watched you. Was it the geas when you freed the illithid slaves?" There was no answer. "When you chose Ferron's side on the Isle of the Maker?" Still no answer. "When you spared the priest of Talona on the Isle of the Avariel?"

"How do you know about that," Chama retorted, her tone more one of accusation than one of question.

"I try to learn as much as I can from your adventures, from Imloth, Nathyrra, Valen, or even Deekin. Please, Chamaedaphne… do you not see that Matron Myrune could not be ignored any longer? If she had carried her betrayal through the end, she would have killed both Valen and you; we would have been left without our greatest warrior and without our greatest wizard. She would have turned us over to the Valsharess; we would have lost her guards' support in the conflict, and we would have been forced to fight them as well as the Valsharess' forces. You did what you had to…"

Just then, Valen rushed down the stairs, escorted by the guards which had stood by his door. He was sweating and swaying on his feet, but held his flail valiantly.

He looked at the three women; Nathyrra frozen, the Seer worried, and Chama… devastated. He looked from them to the burning tapestries, and then back to Chama; no doubt she was the one who had set everything on fire.

His first reflex was to ask what was going on, but then he thought better of it.

"Is anything wrong?", he asked carefully, his eyes going from one to the other.

"No, Valen, nothing is wrong," Nathyrra answered calmly. "As you can see, I didn't catch up with Chama on her way to House Mae'viir, but she's back and alive. I'd ask you to help me put out the fire, but I can see from here you'd do better to go back to bed. Sleepyhead."

Valen snorted in disbelief. _If nothing is wrong, I am a devil of the ninth hell of Baator._ He did sit in the stairs however, because his head was spinning. Chama and Nathyrra extinguished the fire with spells, and then Chama fled to her room, leaving Nathyrra, Valen and the Seer alone.

Valen finally had an occasion to ask what was on his mind. "What is going on?"

"She feels guilty for having killed Matron Myrune," Nathyrra explained truthfully. The Seer felt grateful for the young drow's way of explaining things to Valen honestly, but without betraying Chama's trust.

Valen's eyes hardened. "I see. But a traitor should not be worth that much remorse."

ooooo

Alone in her room, Chama cried herself to sleep, crying over how anger had almost taken her over again, and crying for five lives she had ended – the six others, the five remaining guards and Tebimar, had been victims of Gulhrys – and crying for guilt crushing her, and crying because she had a right to anger when someone tried to assassinate her, and crying because not all was hopeless, because the Seer had said that guilt was the way to redemption, not the chains bearing her down.

She shouldered her guilt and cried. At length pain faded to black and she fell asleep.

ooooo

"Remorse is what separates the mortal from the inhuman, Valen," the Seer warned.

"I know, and I don't mean that she should not feel guilt. Just that… some things just need to be done. They are harder to do because they are ugly and give us remorse, but they still must be done. Thinking this way is not being inhuman… at least I hope so… and you can still live with yourself if you accept this."

The Seer looked at him. His words were wise, and she could see pain in his eyes; he lived in this way, she knew. Doing things that need to be done, bearing the guilt for his actions, but accepting it and not being crushed by remorse.

"Yes, Valen… you are right."

Nathyrra suddenly came over to where he sat in the stairs, leaving the Seer to take down the burned tapestries from the wall, and hugged him quickly. She surprised him completely, more with her teary-eyed look than with the hug itself.

"Our weapon master is a philosopher," she said. "Now get your ass off that step and come help us; we need that extra foot of arm's length to take down the highest tapestries."

ooooo

Imloth walked into the Seer's antechamber confidently; he had a long habit of delivering reports to her here. The day had been busy, both inside the temple and out; he was as eager to tell her of the consequences of House Mae'viir's change of hands as he was to hear the temple's perspective on Chama's actions.

He bowed when he came in, and closed the door. She was sitting in a chair and gestured him to take the other. He was half-way through the room and his sentence, when he noticed how exhausted she looked.

"Mother Seer, I bring you news… By Eilistraee, Mel, you look terrible!"

He let go of his dire mace and hurried to her side, kneeling on the floor in front of her. As always, the torments of the day seemed to lift from her slim shoulders when he spoke her name – not her given name, "Seer", but the shortened version of "Melosira" that was his sole privilege. She shifted back from a pressed leader to a simple woman, tired and needing to confide in someone, she who was everyone's confidante and councillor.

"I am tired," she admitted. "My Goddess knows, Chamaedaphne is a lot to handle."

Imloth chuckled. "I guess we should thank Eilistraee that at least it's Valen handling her most of the time. Do you wish to tell me what happened to drain you so?"

She reached for his hand in an accustomed gesture. He took it and stood up to perch himself on the armrest, an arm draped across the back of her chair to keep his balance. She rested her head back on the backrest.

"She felt guilty for dealing with Matron Myrune. She… is harsh with herself. She carries remorse and tries to be holier than a saint in fear that she will repeat the evils of her past. She does not accept failings of herself, either in battle or in morality. She even considers as failings things that she should not. It… was difficult to convince her that she did right to kill Matron Myrune and Tebimar."

Imloth sighed. "I understand that. It is far behind me now, but I still remember the first moments after my conversion to Eilistraee, how I feared to displease her in each of my actions."

The Seer smiled at the memory. "Yes, you were so fearful."

Imloth slowly let go of her hand and started to play lightly with a strand of hair over her ear.

"You should get some rest. I will keep my reports for tomorrow. Suffice it to say for tonight that everything is fine in Lith My'athar."

She smiled. "Thank you, Imloth."

He nodded and stood up from the armchair, ready to leave her to rest, but then she took his hand again.

"Would you stay with me a while, or will someone come looking for you?"

"I said I would deliver my report and take some rest. We have a few hours."

He was already moving to free her hair from the bun at the back of her head. She let him free her hair, and took his hand to guide him to the bedroom. He followed silently, and she helped him out of his armour.

They lay down and Imloth quietly drew her against his chest. She fell against his shoulder contentedly and with relief, and he murmured in her hair, "Good night, Mel."

"Sleep well, Imloth."

And soon she was asleep. Imloth stayed awake a long moment, watching her sleep. It was often like this in those rare moments when they were alone and free of their respective responsibilities. She would collapse, exhausted, sleeping in his arms, and he would hold her and watch her and stay awake to savour and treasure the moment. On some other rare occasions both of them were rested enough that they did not feel like sleeping right away. Still, there were times when they were weeks or even months without a chance to see each other outside of formalities. Some days he was bitter about it; he would have liked to sleep next to her and to wake by her side everyday, and call her by her name when he wished it. But he understood her situation. A Seer of Eilistraee could not govern her people with a male in the equation, especially not if he was the army's commander. There would be slandering rumours about her acting as a matron mother and taking a favourite consort.

He always had a wry smile at that thought. He acted nothing like her consort or bodyguard, and she acted nothing like a matron mother; maybe it would have been the best example to show to Eilistraee's followers, but Imloth possessed enough wisdom to understand that the drow of Lith My'athar were not ready yet to accept that their Seer had a lover.

And so this was how things were between them. They did not hide, but they were careful not to look suspicious. Imloth had been serving her for so long that no one ever questioned his presence or his actions. This made it easier not to hide or lie to anyone.

So Imloth stayed awake, holding her gently and hoping that this night would be dreamless for her, that she would taste a bit of the peace she so needed. But eventually he allowed himself to drift off to sleep, because he cherished waking next to her as much as he loved observing her sleep.

He sent a short prayer to his goddess; he humbly asked that Melosira, his beloved, rest well for a night, and he wished Eilistraee's benevolence upon all the rebels.


	21. Nightmare

_Hi everyone!_

_I know I said work had slowed down and all, but now I've done another foolishness… I've decided to move. Yep, right at the beginning of September (here in Québec, people almost all move the 1st of July). I moved in with my boyfriend and setting up our apartment has been quite an adventure… We've determined we must have earned around 20 000xp in Québec City's geography, another 20 000xp in driving a car with the back window obscured by too many boxes, and a gigantic 75 000xp in industrial painting/cleaning techniques. (The lessee before us smoke like a chimney and had a dog. AND hadn't painted in 10 years.)_

_So now that I've got blinds in my windows so I can change in peace with the lights on, and now that there's a shower curtain so I can wash without drowning my too curious cat, I've got back to fan fiction!_

_Here's this week's contribution!_

Chapter XX. Nightmare

After a day of rest, Valen had completely recovered, thanks to the amazing healing skills of the Seer. So the team journeyed back in the Underdark and stopped to rest in a new spot, a little closer to Drearing's Deep.

They left Deekin with his new kobold friends to train and his tales to sing in the public house at night. The morale in Lith My'athar rose each day, and a few soldiers could be heard humming the Doom Song to themselves as they practiced their marksmanship and swordsmanship. Valen categorically refused to recognize any influence of the bard's talents behind the rising morale and soldiering skills of his army.

Chama and her companions set up their camp in an open region where they could see anything approaching them, carefully avoiding the small hollow that had been so unlucky to Valen. Chama took the first watch to study her spells, reciting the words of power for an Isaac's Greater Missile Storm until she committed them to memory. It was a spell she used often, although she dedicated considerably more power to it than Isaac himself had prescribed in his original formulation. Chama used her metamagic knowledge to squeeze all the power there was in those magical words of power. Because of the familiarity of the spell, she could study a little distractedly and scan the surroundings.

Suddenly Valen moaned. The agonizing pain he expressed in this inarticulate sound made her jump up to her feet, the books and parchments in her lap falling disorderly on the ground. Her heart racing, she turned to look at the tiefling, and he started tossing from side to side.

She ran to his side and gripped his shoulder hard, just before he succeeded in thrusting himself out of his bedroll.

"Valen!", she called out.

His eyes shot open, as red as the fire of the Abyss, and his face contorted in a mask of rage and fury. He seemed to look through Chama to his nightmare's demons, and he gripped her neck in his gauntleted hand. He effortlessly tossed her backward and she landed hard on her back, the wind nearly knocked out of her. He leaped and landed with a knee on her stomach, his face still distorted.

_Incoherent rage_, she remembered his words. A star of pain exploded in her abdomen. She shot her hand up flat on his breastplate, and screamed his name.

"_Valen Shadowbreath_!"

The cyan blinked back the raging red in his eyes, but his full weight rested on her chest a complete second, while his eyes filled with confusion and horror.

The first thing he realized when he came to his senses was that he had been staring at the blood at the corner of her mouth and the grey tinge of her skin. He looked to her eyes, wild and startled, but surprisingly not fearful. Her neck was bruised in the shape of his fingers. He had no idea what had happened.

He jumped off her and through the shock noticed Nathyrra standing close by, her dagger drawn and a dark light in her eyes. He blushed and stormed off in sickening shame. He heard Chama turn on her side and retch. He broke into a run.

Nathyrra helped a potion to Chama's lips.

"By Mystra, he's heavy," the elf panted. "Give me another one, I think he exploded my spleen."

Nathyrra wordlessly handed another vial to her companion. Chama sat still for a few seconds, letting the potion kick in and gathering her thoughts. She marvelled at how calm she was. _I have just been physically manhandled_, she acknowledged. Strangely enough, no trace of fear contracted her gut painfully, even though she had been expecting it. There was only worry twitching in her stomach at the memory of the horror in his eyes when he woke up from his nightmare to understand what he had done. The pain in his first cry, and the torment of guilt in his eyes when he had stormed off.

"In what direction did he go?", Chama inquired.

"I… think you should let him come back by himself… The demon was…"

"I'll be fine," Chama cut determinedly.

Nathyrra, with hesitation obviously sparked by worry, pointed to the north and east around a boulder of rock. Chama left and pocketed a healing kit on her way. She shortly found Valen nearby, pounding his fists into a rock, swearing in a demonic tongue she was grateful to be unfamiliar with.

"I'm glad you haven't managed to kill yourself before I arrived," she said softly.

His eyes were cyan, but his face still haunted.

"Don't come nearer. You don't want to come nearer," he declared with some despair.

She smiled gently and he was turned upside down by that smile. No one could smile like that to the beast he tried to hold in check within.

"You fool, I came here exactly for that. Now remove your gloves and let me see your hands, because I will need my warrior in top shape tomorrow. We have vampires and an army of undead to vanquish, do not forget."

There was no way to escape her placating advance. She sat him down on a rock, removed his gloves, and then used the healing kit to bandage his hands.

"They'll be alright tomorrow," she declared assuredly. She paused, let go of his bandaged hand, and looked at him with attentive dark eyes for a while. Her gentle lightness made way to a more serious expression. "I'm sorry I woke you in the middle of a nightmare."

"The apologies are mine to make," he declared darkly. "I am terribly sorry that I… that I hurt you. I… was not in control of myself." He abruptly stopped, ashamed. This was no excuse.

"What were you dreaming of?", she asked, looking at him intently.

"I… would rather not say."

"Valen, I consider you a friend. That is why I risked waking you from a dream that distressed you. Don't you think I can help you still?"

Valen smiled thinly in spite of himself. He could almost hear the Seer. "I was back in the Abyss," he began, his voice thick and forced, "revelling in the destruction and in my demon blood. The… the Seer, I was… she was there, and I was tearing her to pieces, and with each drop of her blood I was more savage, more infernal. I… came back to myself just before killing her… killing you." He looked away. _I am still a snarling beast, it seems._ The thought hung in the air, unspoken.

"I don't think so," she said softly.

This gentleness she displayed when facing his demonic half almost scared him. The more savage he acted, the softer she treated him, and one day that could get her killed, because he could not be treated gently when in rage. Even though he knew this, the kindness in her voice compelled him to look up in her smooth black eyes and forced hope into him.

"Dreams are but symbols," she added gently. "This dream may only show that you are _afraid_ of losing your humanity, not that you have. It might even be that you have pushed your infernal half far away from your thoughts that it can only fight you in the world of dreams now."

"But what I did to you…"

She put a hand on his shoulder, which halted him instantly. She was the second person he could recall in all of his life that had put a hand on his shoulder in this way. He had been seized violently as a child, invited lustfully by demonesses in the Abyss, or punched to get his attention while in the armies of the Blood Wars, but only two people had put a reassuring hand on his shoulder to still his disturbing thoughts: the Seer, and now Chamaedaphne Indiwasi.

"You were still in your dreams," she reminded him firmly, "and as soon as the human in you awoke, he looked at me and was horrified by what he did unknowingly."

"You should be afraid of me," he whispered roughly.

She smiled kindly, if a bit shakily, and shook her head. "I cannot fear you, because I trust you, Valen Shadowbreath. Now, stop brooding and come back to camp. It's your turn of guard anyway."

Valen followed her back to the camp, still under the shock of the nightmare and her kindness. Nathyrra waited for them, pacing restlessly.

"You can sleep, Nat, it's Valen's turn of guard," Chama announced nonchalantly.

Nathyrra nodded, but managed to "pass by" Valen's side on her way to her bedroll. She gripped his arm.

"If you let your demon half kill her," she whispered in drow, "you'll betray the Seer. And I won't let you betray the Seer, Valen. Remember that."

"I don't forget," he answered.

But while he searched for a spot where to sit to keep watch, the demon came up dangerously close to the surface. There was an insidious voice at the back of his thoughts. It sounded awfully smug when it reminded him of what he had done to Chama – the blood, the pain, the greyness of her skin, the fear in her eyes…

_She is not afraid of me_, Valen protested vehemently.

_Maybe not_, the demon replied unfazed. _She was too much in shock with the realization that her nice little pet had turned and bitten her to be afraid._

_I am not a beast_!, Valen retorted.

_No,_ I _am the beast, _the demon conceded carelessly,_ and for now you hide me under the pretence of civility and good-heartedness._

_I do not_ hide _you! I_ deny _you!_

In his head the demon laughed, and the sound reminded him unpleasantly of Grimash't laughter.

_Do you really?_, it asked. _Tell me, or rather, to be exact, tell yourself, did you not enjoy the imaginary death of your precious Seer?_

_Enough_, Valen said forcefully.

_Did you not feel compelled to spill more of the surfacer's blood? Will you deny that it intrigued you because you had never tasted the blood of her race before?_

_Enough!_, Valen exclaimed with a measure of despair.

_Why do you rage, my good Valen? Is it that my words carry some truth? Is it that_ you _are capable of such rage, that you are the beast you attempt to deny being?_

Valen strangled on a curse he refused to voice out loud. He turned, ready to pounce his fists into a rock again, but then he saw Chama's bandages around his knuckles. Rage fled when he remembered her smile, kind despite his demon blood and how he had injured her in mindless rage. He stood there, puzzled, the demon and his anger forgotten for the moment, contemplating what strange effect she was having on him.

_You almost did it this time_, Valen acknowledged to the demon now neatly cornered and held in a dark recess of his mind. _But she reminded me earlier that I am not at your mercy, and I should have paid more attention, because she was right._

_You merely resist me, and you only make yourself miserable._

_I want to be a good man._

_You will never be free of me._

Valen turned his mental back on the demon. He briefly looked Chama's way. The seasoned adventurer faced a moody and dangerous tiefling with curious gentleness, even though she knew him for barely a tenday and had been forced into his company by a mad mage's geas. Valen watched her a while, wondering what it showed about her character; simple madness, or admirable generosity of the soul?

ooooo

"Chama… Chama, wake up."

When her eyelids finally complied and parted to reveal her sleepy eyes, Valen's face leaned over her. Nathyrra crouched a little further to the right, ordering the contents of her pack. Chama sat up with a wistful sigh, rubbing her eyes, and Valen extended her a piece of millet cake, their usual breakfast.

"That's nice of you to prepare my breakfast and bring it to my bed," she teased with a wink.

He smiled ruefully, blushing slightly. "I know it's not quite the luxury you must be used to, but I wanted to thank you."

She took the piece of cake and bit into it. "I'm not used to too much luxury, don't you worry. That's nice of you."

"I wanted to thank you for last night," Valen said with some difficulty. "For waking me, but also for forgiving me when I hurt you."

"It's alright, Granduc. I already told you; think nothing of it."

He smiled timidly, and sat there with her for a while. There was something else, unspoken, that hung in the silence between them – something had changed.


	22. The Nearing End

_Okay breathes heavily this was the last chapter of my pre-boat marathon. I think I finish on a nice note, and it's a natural place where to take a break._

_Thursday, Spetember 27th, I'll be taking a plane headed for Resolute, Canada. There I'll board the Amundsen ice-breaker, and I'll stay onboard for 6 weeks. After that, I might want to sleep a few weeks on end, so it's possible I won't update or comment on anything for 2 months or so._

_So, please, everyone, read and review. I'd like to have a ton of reviews to answer to when I get back ;)_

Chapter XXI. The nearing end

Drearing Deep, for all its claims as a sanctuary of freedom for escaped slaves, exuded fear and oppression. Conversation with the depressed inhabitants of the town quickly revealed that the only way Chama and her companions had to attract the temple's attention was to offer themselves as sacrifices in a ritual. After the adventurers carefully checked their gear and discussed strategy, Chama rang the gong standing in front of the temple's imposing doors to summon the ritual in question.

The high construction's doors opened with a theatrical squeak, pushed by two creatures of magic which, even though they possessed only fleshless skulls instead of heads, were very muscular. Between them, what seemed a man of high stature in midnight blue robes moved forward. The staff of office high in his right hand, the high priest bore the hallmarks of the undead: black, fine veins coursing on his chalk-white skin.

Chama, Valen and Nathyrra let the guards guide them inside the sinister temple and placidly waited until the high priest Soldaris departed for his chambers, climbing the stone stairway with unnatural vivacity. Once the undead creature had closed the door to the upper floor behind itself, taking it out of view and hearing range of the entrance hall, Valen, Nathyrra and Chama launched their attack against their jailers. Bloody battle ensued and they of course emerged victorious.

Chama's simple plan consisted of climbing up in the cult temple until they found Soldaris, who no doubt held the key to the lower crypts, where the source of the Valsharess' undead armies dwelled. So the team climbed the first stairway they encountered and destroyed all the undead denizens of the temple unlucky enough to cross their path.

Soldaris, however, did not let itself be vanquished so easily. It determinedly avoided destruction by fleeing by magical means after his first encounter with Valen's heavy flail, Nathyrra's hidden rapier, and Chama's destructive spells.

After the skirmish with the vampire, the companions sat for a while in the stairs, catching their breath.

"I'm kind of afraid to draw conclusions," Chama admitted.

"Why is that so?", Nathyrra inquired.

"Because this temple is in all likelihood the source of the undead allies of the Valsharess – besides, Soldaris is a powerful vampire, that much is obvious. On the other hand, we have been seeing dragon statues everywhere. And the only solution I can see to the equation 'undead + dragon' is ' draco-lich'. And I'm not too happy at the idea of battling a draco-lich. Are you?"

Valen frowned doubtfully. "A draco-lich?"

"Do you have a better suggestion?"

Nathyrra and Valen shook their heads. "My spells won't fit," Chama observed. "That sort of creature no doubt can resist magic pretty well, so I must cast a Greater Breach before anything, and Valen will need to be boosted, and Nathyrra doesn't have much offensive spells powerful enough to pierce his… his bones."

Valen considered the wizard's concerns, but finally shrugged it off in a squeak of armour. "Well, my flail will hurt it just like anything else."

Chama smiled, reassured by his confidence. Nevertheless, she had to protest. "Yes, but its breath will consume you, even if you're under an elemental resistance spell. I know you're tough, but I'd rather not test your limits if I have a choice."

"No argument there. What do you propose?"

She sighed and stood up, brushing the dust off her pants. "Let's concentrate on getting to the lower floors first. Surely a few minions guarding it will need slaughtering before we get to its chambers, right?"

ooooo

Valen looked down at himself. A thin but flexible layer of stone covered him, some magical shimmer making his armour harder to penetrate imbued his chainmail, a cloud of glittering yellow flickers making him resistant to the elements surrounded him, a white halo making him more resistant to spell effects affected him, a chainmail making him move almost twice faster encased him, and a potion of clarity rendered his mind utterly clear.

_If anything can get through all of this_, he thought, _I'm a devil of Baator_.

He stepped into the chamber before his companions, and instantly he noticed the many corpses of dead dragons lying around. Something huge came down from the ceiling flying heavily, invisible higher up in the darkness. It had to be Vix'thra, the dracolich. Two golems standing on the far side of the cavern slowly changed their stance from stiff attention to a battle-ready crouch.

The drums of the Blood War beat louder in Valen's veins suddenly. He rushed forward. As agreed, Nathyrra and Chama ran away on each side of him to go around the dracolich. Nathyrra cast the Greater Breach from a parchment while Chama disabled the golems with the physical damage dealt by the gigantic boulders of ice of an Ice Storm.

"Look at this!", Nathyrra exclaimed, pointing. "There's a hidden door!"

There was an immeasurable pause, and then Chama ran for it. "Through it! Vix'thra's got to have a phylactery somewhere! It has to be there! Help me!"

Nathyrra ran after Chama. Valen followed a bit more slowly, keeping the dracolich busy and doing his best to avoid its claws and teeth. The electrical breath of the dragon _could_ get through the elemental shield, he had quickly experienced.

The dragon obviously did not fit in the hidden tunnel, so the team had a second to analyse their surroundings when they burst from the fault in the rock. The stony cavity, much smaller than the other cavern, held a phylactery mounted on a graceful altar and guarded by two golems. Nathyrra and Valen each ran for a golem while Chama busied herself with an incantation. A new fall of massive boulders of ice crushed the phylactery and the two golems' heads.

A very unhappy Vix'thra suddenly flew in and breathed electricity at them until it completely filled the small cavity of rock. Chama and Nathyrra doubled over in convulsions, but Valen just grunted in pain and charged. Soon enough roiling waves of arcane power washed over him, renewing his protections. Other volleys of magic, destructive and potent, flew over his head towards the dragon.

A fire arrow from a Firebrand – the fourth or fifth Chama had cast – struck through the dracolich's dead orbit and finally brought him down, dead.

Nathyrra, Chama and Valen paused in disbelief for a moment, watching warily the twitching limbs of the draconic creature, until the gigantic bones stilled for eternity. Then Nathyrra howled with joy, was joined by Valen and Chama, and the three of them hugged and patted each other on the back exuberantly.

"How did you know for the phylactery?", Nathyrra asked, busily filling her pack with gold. Gold pieces of many ages and nations littered the floor, too much to fit in simple pouches and pockets. Nathyrra had proceeded to fill a whole pack with it, laughing a bit at the extravagance of the situation. Chama and Valen examined and collected magical items instead.

"I didn't!", Chama exclaimed. "It just occurred to me when you showed the hidden door." Chama paused to squeeze the drow's shoulder. "Without you, Nat, I would never have thought about it, and I'm sure Vix'thra could have refocused itself into one of the other dragon corpses. Thank you, Nat."

The drow smirked prettily, and then resumed her hoarding.

ooooo

Their exuberant enthusiasm born of victory and the real freedom of the slaves of Drearing's Deep quickly dimmed when they arrived in Lith My'athar. Sergeant Osyyr waited for them, and quickly directed them over to the Seer. A war meeting took place, with the Seer, Imloth, Argosus, Deekin, Lavoera, a golem emissary, Rizolvir, Gulhrys, the lieutenant from House Mae'viir and the army's captains. Imloth quickly briefed Chama and her companions on what was going on: the Valsharess' army moved to lay siege on them, and would reach them no later than the next morning.

Valen locked eyes with the Seer.

"It is a great luck that we were not caught behind the lines."

She nodded. "I am glad that all of you are back, and with news of another one of the Valsharess' allies defeated."

"At least we could accomplish this much before we were shut in Lith My'athar," Chama commented dryly. "Gulhrys?"

"Yes, my lady?"

"Is the device finished?"

"Only the final testing remains to be done, but the preliminary tests on separate parts have all worked perfectly. I am confident."

She thought wryly that he would never admit to the contrary. "Very well. Nat and I could help you tonight; we still have some power left to counterspell if anything goes wrong."

The High Wizard nodded.

"We should probably be doing it right now if we wish to get a few hours of sleep before tomorrow," the elf went on. "I have a feeling we're going to need it."

"We will take care of everything, Chamaedaphne," the Seer assured. "Take care of this device, and then rest quietly, knowing that we are doing everything that can be done."

Chama nodded and left with Nathyrra and Gulhrys to see to the final testing of the obelisk. Valen watched them go uneasily. As usual, the Seer could seemingly read his thoughts.

"Valen, maybe you should accompany them," she proposed. "We do not know what can be summoned forth from the device if it fails."

He nodded and stalked off after the three spellcasters. He found them on the docks, the device lashed out to the ground by heavy ropes tied to hooks driven in the earth. Nathyrra and Chama merely glanced at him when he arrived before turning back to their work, and the High Wizard could not help but be annoyed by the natural acceptance of the warrior's presence the two women seemed to share.

"Excuse me, Valen, is there something I can do for you?" Gulhrys asked tartly.

"You can test that device," the tiefling answered flatly. "The Seer wanted to make sure I'm here in case something – anything – goes wrong."

The High Wizard huffed; what was this warrior imagining? He would not have built something that would not work.

Once they all declared themselves ready, Gulhrys activated the different components of the obelisk one after the other by switching runes in a well-planned and definite order. Finally he activated the last component; the obelisk started to hum and vibrate slowly, shaking the very ground under it. The hum progressively grew higher-pitched and the vibration accelerated.

Gulhrys took a hasty step back. Nathyrra observed warily, uncertain about what she could do. Chama did not pause to explain her actions, but started casting a haste spell. Gulhrys stared at her in confusion. The obelisk badly rocked its anchors now, its hum reaching uncomfortably high frequencies.

Chama completed her spell. The obelisk steadied, the humming rose in pitch until it could not be heard anymore, even by elven keen ears, and Chama's pack suddenly weighed three hundred pounds.

Cavallas over on the River screamed insults at them for sapping the magic out of his beloved Dark River, keeping his boat well out of the zone of effect; he had been warned earlier.

"It works," Nathyrra marvelled.

"Why the haste spell?", Gulhrys asked, not taking his suspicious eyes off the spinning core yet.

"It vibrated because it had trouble starting," Chama exposed. "The core must rotate quickly, and it can be jerky before it gets its regular speed. The same thing happens with gate restriction mechanisms."

Three startled pairs of eyes settled on her.

"You've worked with gates?" Gulhrys exclaimed.

"Fiddled would be more appropriate," she countered humbly. "I never managed to make one work long enough to go through, but it taught me a thing or two. Now, if you'll excuse me, Gulhrys… this should work fine now, and I'm tired."

"Chamaedaphne… please wait for a second."

She paused curiously to look at Gulhrys. "Yes?"

The High Wizard slowly removed his hat to reveal neck-length, abundant white hair. He combed it through with his hands, so it fell on each side of his face, contrasting starkly with his black eyes. He knew this was how he looked at his best, but he wore the hat most of the time to remind people that they spoke with the High Wizard, not just any male.

Chama looked at him slightly suspiciously, and he found it amusing. What a challenging female, this one. Challenging, but not forceful as a drow would have been. He removed the pin that adorned his cloak clasp on his right shoulder. It was an intricate design picturing the Weave, made exclusively from spell components; it was something he had made before he climbed as high as the High Wizard in the drow hierarchy.

"Please accept this gift from your humble servant, my lady?"

She blinked incredulously at him. He noticed that Nathyrra was not snorting like she had until then, and something very threatening crept into Valen's countenance behind Chamaedaphne.

"I… am sorry Gulhrys, I cannot accept this. Please accept my apologies."

"You do not have to apologize, honoured female, if I have displeased you…"

"No, Gulhrys. I am not a drow. I do not have to be displeased with you to refuse your gift… I am sorry if you do not understand me."

And she turned away from him slowly, looking at him straight in the eye. She headed back to the temple. Gulhrys did not move while Valen and Nathyrra exchanged a look heavy with unspoken communication. Finally the tiefling left, walking quickly to catch up with Chama, and the drow wizard was left with Nathyrra.

The assassin turned to look at him.

"Well, well, Gulhrys, aren't we an ambitious one," she started in a very cold voice.

"You can't blame me for trying," he shrugged with a sly smile. "I have yet to find a drow of her strength and daring."

"_I_ am drow and I can be displeased with you," Nathyrra observed in her coldest voice, "so please remember your manners and do not highlight who are my betters in my presence, male worm."

Gulhrys blinked, the smile gone from his lips. He bowed carefully. "My apologies, honoured female."

"I am delivering a warning to you now. If you dare bothering her again, either me or Valen will take care of you. She is not drow and does not understand how our kind thinks and what you might try to do. She acted as though she spoke to another surface elf; I am here to make sure you will react like one. I hope I am making myself clear?"

"Very clear, honoured female," Gulhrys answered subserviently. What did she take him for? Did she know how old he was? He had not survived this long by making stupid mistakes like annoying Valen when he had those eyes, or displeasing Nathyrra the assassin, or even causing Chama's stormy temper to rise.

He would miss challenging Chama though. He would miss seeing that annoyance in her eyes when he called her "my lady" and she decided to ignore it, as though daring him to use that name for her again. And he would miss her perfect intelligence and spellcraft.

Nothing transpired in his expression when he straightened, pinned his cloak clasp back on, and put his hat back on. He stared blandly at Nathyrra.

"Does the test of the obelisk satisfy you, honoured female?"

She glanced carelessly at the magical contraption. "It does, so far. Make sure it does not blow off before tomorrow."

"Very well, honoured female."

ooooo

Valen had yellow eyes when he caught up with Chama. She could recognize the heavy footsteps and the brusque clinking of is armour as he walked; she knew from those sounds that he was angry. She looked up at him and saw his yellow eyes.

"Valen, are you angry with me?"

"No," he answered with a calm belied by his eyes. "Why do you ask?"

"Because I can see your neck muscles bulging from here and your eyes are yellow."

He blinked a couple of times and the yellow disappeared, but his countenance stayed the same. Suddenly, she was not sure that she wanted to know why he was angry.

"I am not angry," he denied then. "I am just concerned about what Gulhrys might try to do now, and the demon tries to push me into action foolishly."

"What could Gulhrys try now? I refused. That's all there is to it."

"That's not how it works in drow culture. A male has to get the moon to be accepted by a female of your status…"

She made a face. "Valen, I'm sure I don't need to hear you judge my status or tell me what males do with females here or wherever in the Abysmal planes or whatever. I assure you I can handle Gulhrys if he comes back."

"But…"

"Stop it. It was important for _me_ to treat him well – at least this time. I'll treat him more badly if he doesn't get the message. I know very well how drow treat each other. I've seen enough of it with House Mae'viir."

At that Valen shut his mouth. There was such bitterness in her voice when she spoke the name Mae'viir that he preferred not to push any further. Besides, he realized now that it was true; she had seen the manner of thinking of the drow.

He walked faster to catch up with her. "That is true, my lady. Please forgive me, I did not mean to be pushy."

She nodded silently in acknowledgement and they reached the temple in relaxed silence.

ooooo

That night, lying awake in his bed, Valen felt like he lived some kind of surreal dream. They had killed a dracolich today. They had seized its hoard and now all the captains and a few of the more experienced fighters were equipped with magical items, ranging from rings to armour, coming from the undead dragon's hoard.

Vix'thra was the most powerful enemy he had ever faced – that was not true; he had faced Aurachor, but he had been in an army then. The dracolich was the most powerful creature he had ever fought without an army at his back. Three – merely three – adventurers had defeated him almost easily; Chama's and Nathyrra's spells had poured power and resistance into him. Nathyrra had noticed the hidden door. Chama had understood what would lie beyond it. He had kept them safe by interposing his body and weapon. He squirmed at the memory of the agonizing pain of the electricity arching through his body.

And tomorrow, they would face the Valsharess and her bound archdevil. They had not the slightest idea how the priestess had bound him, or how they could defeat him – if he could be defeated at all.

But Valen smiled up to his room's roof. It was a foolish smile, completely removed from the grim reality. Somehow, if Chama was there, he believed that whatever they faced, they would overcome. He almost laughed. What would the Seer say if she knew he thought like this now? Such foolish hope… such blind faith.

No, not blind. He knew Chama now, and he had seen her, so small and frail, be so strong and overcome so many overpowering opponents. Surely they could beat another one.

He smiled and fell asleep.

Tomorrow he would fight for her.


	23. The Final Stand

_Finally, after a good two months, here is a new update for Out of the Dark and the Mist. Rest assured, I haven't forgotten this story, and I'll keep updating it as regularly as possible._

_Thanks for keeping up with the story even though it's been paused for a while, and please keep reading and reviewing!_

Chapter XXII. The final stand

His foolish hope proved justified, even though the grim battle before the gates of Lith My'athar made him forget his amusement of the previous night. Once they had organized the recovery of the wounded and the dead, the rebels took the battle from a siege of their stronghold to an assault of their enemy's. The march to the tower of the Valsharess gave Valen time to think; he walked with his heart pounding and his hands shaking. He could barely believe that they were through the siege. Alive. And the rebels owned so much of the victory to Chama: to the useful items she had brought back from their adventures, to her strategy to weaken the Valsharess, to her careful battle plan for the siege, to her single-handed magical power.

He had stood by her side in the battle, and so had Nathyrra, the guardian golem she had built on the Isle of the Maker, the golems of Ferron's faction, Lavoera, the beholders' kobold slaves with Deekin at their head, and the drow allies of the Seer.

Valen was a proud man, even though his pride never became arrogance, and he could recognize the merits of battle for what they were. So he acknowledged the golems' essential role of blocking and guarding the inner doors. The deva had healed and blessed the younger soldiers, transforming them from frightened recruits into efficient soldiers. The kobolds had been the marksmen covering their backs. Nathyrra had boosted the elite soldiers with spells and backstabbed the isolated marksmen or mages.

But Valen himself had withstood the brunt of the enemy's assault single-handedly, and his resistance to their advance had kept them tightly together, so Chama had been able to use her destructive spells to wreak havoc in the middle of their ranks.

The battle had been won by the two of them.

He had fought well and bravely, holding his ground despite the rain of fire, lightning, acid and ice that fell all around him, brushing but never hurting him. He had fought with her constantly in mind, knowing he must hold his ground for her.

Not for the Seer in the safety of Lith My'athar's temple. For her. Only for her.

And he had not been overthrown by the demon within, even though he had raged and roared, craving for blood to be spilled in unstoppable fury. But Valen had held his ground against his enemies, both from within and from without.

And it was all because of her. Because, when he thought of her, the demon's taunts and temptations lost meaning. Because she was more important than the tanar'ri in his veins.

Valen shook from the intensity of these emotions he was unaccustomed to. He did not let it show, because the most important engagement against the Valsharess was yet to come. The adrenaline of battle rose as they neared the tower; in minutes they would assault the Valsharess and her bound devil, and the war would be over, one way or the other. But he did not shake because of the battle. He trembled because he was alive, Chama was alive, and for the first time in years he thought he could imagine a future for himself where he could be happy, and he needed only survive and defend her a while longer. Then, he could open his heart to her, and maybe he would have his future.

But he could not stand the thought of fighting the coming battle without a measure of reassurance. He turned to Chama, too many words battling in his throat, so that none passed his lips. Her black eyes were like velvet while she looked at him. Even though he could say nothing at all, he could move; he extended his hand to lightly touch her forearm.

"One last battle, Granduc," she whispered, her voice heavy with unsaid.

"This last battle, my lady," he answered. "I will…"

_...stand by your side_, he was about to say. But then, under his eyes, she started to fade away. Her eyes widened in surprise, then narrowed in anger and she turned the other way to look at the one summoning her.

"Chama! Chama, no!", Valen yelled, trying to grip her arm, but his clawing hand flew without any resistance through the image of her still hanging in the air. "Seer! Seer!", he called.

The Seer had been walking behind them, and she immediately chanted something, but Chama was gone before the incantation was done. Everyone had stopped and Imloth had drawn his mace, Nathyrra her dagger.

Valen stiffened; Chama gone, taken away right under his nose. Anger flared within and his eyes flashed a dangerous red in an instant. The demon screamed for destruction and the human craved for vengeance. He warred and wrestled with himself for a second. Some remote corner of his mind reminded him calmly that he mistook worry for anger, and that the demon should not take over, no matter the circumstances.

He had been glaring at the Seer with the demon's eyes, and grateful relief flooded her when he blinked and his eyes turned back to their cerulean blue.

"Where is she gone?", Nathyrra asked warily.

The Seer's lack of answer made it clear that she had not foreseen this particular turn of events

"Summoned by the arch-devil," Valen stated darkly.

He stared up at the tower, then back down at the Seer. Pain and worry clouded his eyes, a faint white veil masking their usually bright blue.

"Can her magical power anything against the arch-devil?", the Seer whispered, waving the soldiers off to confer with Valen, Nathyrra and Imloth alone.

"She will need her warrior," Valen answered in a soft voice.

"Then go to her, Valen," the Seer ordered.

The tiefling's eyes cleared somewhat, before clouding again. "I have a duty to protect you, Seer."

She set her shoulders. "If her magic combined with your might can do nothing against the Valsharess, Valen, then there would be very little left to do but flee and you could protect me no better than by fleeing with us. And if it is only fleeing that needs to be done, then Imloth is more than up to the task of protecting us." She looked at him attentively. _You know your heart's desire, Valen. Do not make me state it_, she challenged him silently.

Valen closed his eyes. Suddenly, his hands were steady again, and he felt a cold stone of determination and resignation towards impeding death settle in the pit of his stomach. He turned to Imloth and clasped the drow commander's hand.

"Keep them alive. Hold them together and run."

Imloth snapped a formal military salute.

"Nathyrra," Valen said as he turned to the assassin, "they will need you to scout ahead and clear the way sometimes. And you have waited long enough to see the moon of your goddess. Go, and keep them alive."

Nathyrra bowed slightly. With heavy heart, Valen turned to Deekin and crouched to face the creature. Chama would want him to say something to Deekin. He raked his brains to try and figure what.

"Deekin… oh, just go along and take care of your kobolds. They will need someone to speak for them and defend them."

The kobold nodded briefly, holding up his crossbow in a military salute and, thankfully, did not say a word.

Finally, Valen turned to the Seer. "I cannot thank you enough, Seer, for everything."

He kissed the drow's hand, and then ran off towards the tower. Imloth turned around and led the army away, bringing the pace up. Nathyrra shot a last look at Valen; he stared up at the tower an instant before he bashed the doors open with a massive shoulder and charged inside. Sounds of battle soon ensued. At that moment, the drow assassin almost turned around and ran to assist him, but she renounced the idea after a look at the Seer, wisely waiting for her.

"He has walked off to meet his destiny, Nathyrra," the Seer pronounced when the assassin caught up with her. "Yours does not lie with theirs."

Nathyrra gaped at the Seer, stopping a moment before resuming walking. "They're my friends, Seer! How can you tell me so coldly that they will die?"

"Death is not always the end of the journey, Nathyrra," the Seer countered calmly, with a wise smile.

It perplexed Nathyrra for a second before she rushed to follow Imloth's lead. He moved the army toward the beholder territory, where the spies had learned an exit to the surface was located.

ooooo

Many times Nathyrra thought she would die. Valen had indeed been right in saying that Imloth would need someone to scout ahead, and no one was quite as competent as she was when it came to dealing with the shadows. So she walked ahead of the army, spotting hostile sentries, dangerous paths and favourable places where to set camp.

Many times she thought she made a sound that would make her close target notice her approach and turn her to stone or kill her. Many times she feared she would get lost in the labyrinth of the beholder tunnels.

Many times she thought she would die.

But the Seer and Imloth counted on her. Valen had entrusted her with this responsibility. All the followers of Eilistraee were depending on her.

She would make Valen and Chama proud, wherever they were.

She lost track of time as she guided the army for days, maybe weeks, through the Underdark caves and the beholders' tunnels. She always worked alone, coming back once every four days to make a report to Imloth.

They finally reached a close proximity to the surface and the army camped nearby while Nathyrra scouted. When she saw the light, she ducked behind a rock in a rush, thinking she had been located and a beholder blasted something nasty her way. But when the light kept coming, unwavering, she understood it was not a beholder's magic.

She got up from behind her rock, too entranced at the sight of the light to remember to keep to the shadows. The light, soft and silvery, glowed steadily like a Candle cantrip, only much more softly.

The assassin remembered herself – there could be anything guarding this entrance, on this side or the other! – and hid into the shadows, edging carefully forwards in the tunnel, which slanted upwards.

Her ascension did not take long. She soon felt a current of air on her skin; she had trouble maintaining silence because of her rushing breathing. She got down on her hands and knees to keep advancing when the tunnel narrowed. She passed a curve in the passageway, and suddenly she saw the surface.

Only a small patch of it was visible from where Nathyrra crouched. Something waved across the opening; probably some sort of plant, from what she had heard of the surface. Some kind of vine. On the waxen leaves fell a silvery light that Nathyrra could only hope was Eilistraee's blessed light.

_It's not the time to get yourself or the whole army killed, Nat_, she admonished herself._ Check to make sure you can take an army through that hole._

She inched forwards on her hands and knees, listening and looking carefully, straining her keen eyes in the silvery light. She stopped with her face against the vine and looked through the leaves to her right and left, but saw no one. She looked ahead, as far as she could see, and it seemed like a forest. There were what could only be trees ahead of her, and their dried leaves covered the ground.

_There could still be someone on top of you, Nat. Don't forget something as elementary as that._

She closed her eyes to listen better, and when she was satisfied that she heard nothing, she carefully parted the vine to take a look over her head.

Immediately over the "door"'s threshold towered a wall of rock overgrown by the same vine. Far higher, however, sailing amongst small dots of light that were stars, stood the full moon of Eilistraee, perfectly framed between the top of the nearby trees and the wall of rock from which Nathyrra observed the sky.

Nathyrra looked in awe.

_I have seen you, my goddess. Let me look at you a moment. Then I will bring the others to see you._

And suddenly something brushed Nathyrra's conscience, like a feather caressing her hair. She turned sharply around, afraid she had been sneaked upon while in her moment of rapture, but she was alone.

Shaking, she made her way back to the army and the Seer. A great silence fell over everyone when she came into view, grave and trembling. She went straight to the Seer.

"Is it a sign, Mother Seer?", she asked in an awed whisper.

The Seer gave Nathyrra a kind smile. "I am certain it is, Nathyrra."

The assassin closed her eyes, savouring the sign of her goddess for a while, and finally she explained to Imloth and to the Seer how to find the exit to the surface.

ooooo

Valen bashed the doors open with a thought that Chama could have made faster and cleaner work of the lock with those nimble fingers of hers. He rushed up the first flight of stairs after dispatching a pair of guards effortlessly.

He rushed up and up the tower, killing only a few guards on his way up, and everywhere he saw the females with the Red Sister uniform lying in a lake of their own blood, killed by mysterious means.

The drums of the Blood Wars beat dangerously loud, but for now he tolerated the demon at the surface, because his fury agreed well with the tanar'ri rage he hosted in his veins. He stayed vigilant, however, that the demon would not take him over.

That would never happen again. He had made a promise to himself, and he held it for his own sake, as much as for the Seer's, and now Chama's. He knew who he wanted to be.

He knew who he wanted Chama to see when she looked at him.

The stairs seemed to wind up endlessly. The chainmail of speed hung heavy on his shoulders, as did his old armour crafted by Rizolvir he still carried, and he was out of breath by the time he reached half the tower's height.

But he did not slow down. Chama would need her warrior. He knew she could keep anyone talking for a while with that silvery tongue of hers, but even her skill with words had limits.

So he rushed on, swinging his flail to bash drows out of his way rather than to kill them. No one fought him very determinedly anyway, and he thought this must have something to do with the Red Sisters' deaths. The guards must be afraid and unsure with the Valsharess not sending any orders and her assassins dead.

Unlike the preceding floors, guards really defended the last level of the tower, and Valen tried to listen through his groans of pain and those of his opponents if he heard anything at all coming from the chamber beyond the doors.

Valen shot a look at his pack discarded on the ground at the entrance of the landing. He stepped forward warily, and he checked the door. It was not trapped, but an ominous silent reigned behind it. And suddenly, Valen heard Chama's voice, cold and controlled, yet proud and valliant. _Oh, my love,_ he thought, _how foolishly strong you are_.

"I promise you, Mephistopheles."

Valen closed his eyes and bashed the door, his eyes taking the black colour of utmost determination. The Valsharess' corpse lay at the feet of her now unbound devil. At that precise moment, Mephistopheles finished his gesture, his glowing red eyes fixed on Chama standing proudly before him, and Valen had seen this stance before. It was the stance she had assumed while facing him the first day in Lith My'athar: awaiting death nobly and defiantly.

Chama did not even hear or see him come in. She died, the spell released by Mephistopheles' hand ramming into her chest and sending her flying backwards, her blood spraying in the air all around her as she flew back.

Valen grit his teeth and each and every muscle in his body contracted violently and painfully. His blood boiled with rage and the demon within exploded with fury and desire for destruction. He unhooked his flail. He snarled and started forward, but then Chama hit the ground. She was limp like a rag doll, and she bounced off before she finally settled down in a disarticulate heap of flesh.

Valen cried out in pain and stopped. The demon had fled and he was now a simple man standing helplessly before Mephistopheles, ruler of the Eighth.

_Had I known he would be such entertainment, I might have considered killing her more slowly,_ Mephistopheles mused. Valen stood before Chama's body, his head lowered and his eyes taking a grey colour. _Ah, but I might have a way to make him grovel yet, he's already so broken._

Mephistopheles lifted his hand again, and Chama's body levitated from the ground. Her flesh burned until only her skeleton floated in the air, and finally even her skeleton disappeared, leaving only a pool of her blood and a scorched mark on the floor.

Valen cried out again, and finally he brought his flail up, facing Mephistopheles. _For you, my love, I will die proudly. The demon will not have me. I will die a man._

"She has promised you something," the tiefling declared aloud. "I will promise something else: I will take revenge for her."

Mephistopheles toyed with the idea of banning the tiefling to the Hells also, but he mused that, with the troubles the strong-willed ladies in his realm were likely to stir up in the next weeks, it was probably wiser not to let this tanar'ri rejoin his companion.

The devil looked the demon up and down, seizing him up. A veteran of the Blood Wars, but still no match for him. Mephistopheles let out a terrifying grin. "Really," he purred. "Let us see that."

They circled each other, and finally Valen lunged forward, his flail hitting the leg of the devil towering above him. He dodged the gigantic trident just in time, and as he spun around to the battle once more, he saw that his hit, which would have crushed a man's skull, had not made much of a difference on Mephistopheles' skin.

"A mere planar has hit you," Valen smirked, "oh dread Mephistopheles. I am a realistic man. I set objectives I can accomplish. I have already begun my revenge."

The devil roared in fury and rushed forward, and Valen was hard pressed to escape the attacks, much less attack of his own.

They were not an even match. Valen hit a few times, his flail striking hard against Mephistopheles' flesh, but the devil hit often, fast and hard. It was not long before Valen was brought to the ground, his shoulder pinned to the floor by Mephistopheles's trident.

The tiefling controlled his body and stopped squirming, even if pain burned every part of his being. He looked up to Mephistopheles with his cerulean eyes. _I die a man_.

"I have delayed you of a few minutes, dread Mephistopheles," he panted breathlessly. "I think that's not bad for a mere half-demon."

Mephistopheles sneered and Valen closed his eyes against the sight of the devil's face. He tried to conjure an image of his beloved behind his closed eyelids, but in a flash he saw the Seer, and then the drow smiled and said, "Death is not always the end of the journey, Valen."

Valen would have opened up his eyes in surprise, but then Mephistopheles's weapon struck him in the chest and twisted, and he was dead.


	24. The City of Lost Souls

_Sorry for the delay, folks, I've been busy with Holiday visits (damned, my new in-laws are so MANY!!! I must have met like a hundred of them in three days!). I've also come up with an acute case of sore throat (I swear, my throat hurt so much that sometimes I think it will bloat until I suffocate) and a minor cold. But thanks to that incredibly efficient but disgusting medicine that is methylene blue, I can now breathe easily and without panic. So I posted this chapter :)_

_Due to the feeling of rather abrupt beginning, I have reposted a few lines from the last chapter. I try not to resort to that tactic usually, but I hope you can either forgive me or offer constructive criticism :) _

_I hope you enjoy your read and then review :)_

Chapter XXIII. The City of Lost Souls

"I have delayed you of a few minutes, dread Mephistopheles," Valen panted breathlessly. "I think that's not bad for a mere half-demon."

Mephistopheles sneered and Valen closed his eyes against the sight of the devil's face. He tried to conjure an image of his beloved behind his closed eyelids, but in a flash he saw the Seer, and then the drow smiled and said, "Death is not always the end of the journey, Valen."

Valen would have opened up his eyes in surprise, but then Mephistopheles's weapon struck him in the chest and twisted, and he was dead.

ooooo

Valen's surprise gained in degree when he felt a call and was suddenly brought back to what certainly felt like life, in a strange place that tugged at his planar senses. He could have identified this place if he had paid attention, but right now he was too absorbed by the sight of Chama, standing before him in a rapidly dissipating mist.

And when the last mist cleared between them, she jumped his way and clutched at his hand and lower arm. He was still taken up by the fight with Mephistopheles, the Seer's vision and his shocking return to life, so he remained motionless for a moment.

But then realization hit him, and he stepped forward and hugged her tightly. He closed his eyes, shaking with the marvellous and incredible reality that they were not apart.

She had died, he had died, and yet they were not apart.

Finally he let go of her, and he was so confused to see her again that he cupped her cheek in his hand before he even realized he had moved. He blushed and reflexively took his hand off. She had not moved away from his touch, but she stepped back uneasily now. She spoke before the silence became embarrassing.

"I thank you for accepting to come here."

"My… my lady, do not… do not thank me. I will be forever at your side if you will have me."

"Then we will forever travel together, my warrior," she promised solemnly, and Valen's heart jumped at the hidden significance of her words. Then she sighed and looked around, breaking the enchantment of the moment. She embraced their situation with a move of her arm. "That is, if we travel anywhere."

Then Valen looked around. He took in the kind of demi-plane they were in, the Reaper standing behind him, the small planar doors barred to them, and the large portal now open on something unpleasant.

"The Reaper's Realm," he recognized.

"Yes, although it's not such a great _nexus_ anymore. Right now, this place is merely an antechamber for Hell."

Valen looked at her, startled. "Hell?"

Chama turned her head away. "It… is strangely fitting somehow. I always wondered if I had managed to redeem my soul; I guess I have my answer now."

Valen shook his head and spoke with great vehemence.

"No, my lady! It is Mephistopheles who has damned your soul, and he could only do so because he was free on the Prime. There is nothing in your heart condemning you to this place."

Her voice was a low whisper. "You do not know what is in my heart, Valen, but I thank you for the vote of confidence."

Valen stepped forward in a metallic clink of armour and put his hand on her shoulder gently.

"Chamaedaphne, look at me."

She blinked a few times and finally looked up to him.

"I do not know your past, my lady. That is true, and I will not pry. I want you to know, however, that if you ever need a friend to talk to, I will be listening. But maybe I know your heart better than you know yourself because I am unaware of your past. I have been travelling with you for many weeks now. I have seen you act with kindness, compassion and consideration for the consequences of your actions. The Chama I know would not be damned to the Hells, and that means that you have atoned for your actions."

She took a breath in a clear attempt to relax. "I could almost hear the Seer," she said lightly. "Did she give you lessons?"

Valen smiled slyly. "She did not have to. I merely tell the truth."

Chama set her shoulders. "Thank you. But now that my fit of self-doubt is over," she jested in an attempt to break the tension, "I think it would be wise not to waste time and go explore a bit of this Hell awaiting us, if we are ever to make our way out of it."

"I couldn't agree more. Do you know how we can escape?"

"Oh, it's a very simple matter. If we manage to discover the Reaper's True Name, we could then order him to open a gate to Toril for us. And once there, we will give Mephistopheles the beating he deserves."

Valen lifted a sceptical eyebrow. "Finding the Reaper's True Name? Nothing more? How are we supposed to accomplish this?"

She sighed. "I know. Still, we have to keep in mind that it _has_ to be possible, since Mephistopheles learned the Reaper's True Name in Cania, before he escaped to the Prime."

Valen shrugged, agreeing with her logic, and yet knowing that it was like looking for a needle in a haystack.

"So we will attempt it, my lady."

They made their way to the portal leading to Cania.

"I'm sure you know of the customs, ladies first and all," Chama commented with her usual sly humour, "but since you are a warrior armed to the teeth and I am only a frail thief and mage, maybe we could amend the customs?"

Valen bowed, rather graciously for a man of his size and wearing heavy armour.

"Of course, my lady. If you will, consider me your guardian."

A strange expression crossed her face. "I am grateful that you are willing to take that role up. And you can consider me as your… your High Wizard."

He smiled. "I already do." He turned and crossed the portal.

ooooo

The cold was biting and striking. Chama's pointy ears touched the sides of her helmet and froze almost instantly, sending flashes of pain down her cheeks and jaws. Her eyes watered from the cold and she blinked to clear her vision.

Cania's landscape was a blinding expanse of infinite white. The Reaper's gate had deposited them in a quiet zone without devils, and damned souls wandered about, taking refuge near fires which use Chama understood only too well. She tried repressing her shivers while she observed the surroundings, but Valen noticed her struggling against the cold. He could only imagine what the weather would be like for a mortal without a portion of demon blood.

"Come, my lady, we will warm by the fire for a while, and maybe the souls will have something to say of this… place."

He spat the last word with a displeased grimace. Chama hurriedly made her way to the fire. He stood next to her and glared menacingly at anyone looking their way. With his shoulders squared and his hand on his flail's hilt, he looked threatening enough that no one approached them.

"Lovely. We are in the Hells," he muttered.

"Seems a bit… cold to be the Hells, doesn't it?", Chama objected as she blew on her fingers through her gloves.

"Not all the hellish planes are places of smoke and fire," he replied calmly. "Some are icy, as this one is… some are dark and murky underwater graves, while still others are civilized with cities of their own. This is no worse than any other."

"Maybe not for a mixed breed tanar'ri with boiling blood," she observed carelessly. She always stated these things very matter-of-factly and never seemed to notice that it pained him to be reminded of his heritage, but the very fact that she gave it no heed smoothed the cruelty of reality. "Cool-blooded me would have preferred a place of smoke and fire, I think," Chama sighed. "But never mind my complaints. You must know something about this place?"

"Indeed. This is Baator, also known as the Nine Hells. More specifically it is one of the nine planes that make up Baator, the icy graveyard known as Cania. Home to Mephistopheles… until recently, it seems."

He quit his surveying of the surrounding lands to bring back his attention on Chama, a half-displeased, half-sad expression on his face.

"I should warn you now that my presence may cause… problems," he finally stated. "I am tanar'ri, a half-demon from the Abyss, and the devils of Baator are my natural opponents thanks to the Blood Wars."

While a lone demon in a homeplane of devils might make a tempting target, Chama had confidence in Valen's intimidating presence and great skill, and she knew he would neither look nor be easy pickings. With the odds not so clearly in their favour, the devils might be circumspect in their actions.

"If you don't attack, maybe they won't," she finally said with a kind smile.

"That is just the thing… my own blood will make me want to attack them, and vice versa." He frowned deeply. "I will… try to control myself. We should find a way out of here soon, however."

"No argument there! I think I'm warm enough to go explore a bit now. Let's begin this search for True Names."

Valen nodded, and they started their exploration.


	25. A Former Ally

_As promised, new chapter in time. For those of you who aren't familiar with the original campaign of NWN, I think I must warn you this is HIGHLY SPOILERISH._

_With the warning out of the way, here goes! Please read and review!_

Chapter XXIV. A Former Ally

Three hours later, they had walked around the city and guided the Scrivener, the strange creature responsible for writing the name of the souls damned to Cania, to each of the columns it wanted to see. Chama had immediately understood the twist to the Scrivener's visual charades, and had guided him to each pillar easily. Chama and Valen had then visited the ice quarry, met its very pleasant boss Gru'ul, Chama had repaired his precious grinder and they had made some trade with him. They had visited the temple of the Sleeping Man and spoken to the gith sensai who had refused them entry unless they discovered the five mysteries of the Sleeping Man. Then, they had gone in the icy cave before which they had first found the Scrivener crying.

Chama stood frozen before the incorporeal body of an elf half buried under ice.

"Aribeth."

Chama had read the paladin's name engraved in the ice by the Scrivener, and she knew she would be here, but facing her brought back many memories. Valen stood respectfully to the side, waiting for Chama to reach a decision. When she did, the mage turned shakily to him.

"I cannot leave her here. She… she was abandoned by everyone, even by her god, even by her lord… even by me. I cannot abandon her again."

Valen nodded, even if he did not understand – Chama had always been carefully silent about Neverwinter. She assembled kindling wood and crushed velox berries until a hot fire blazed in the frozen cave. For a while she thought it would not work, but then ice began melting over Aribeth's face. Water poured down her cheeks like tears, until she was free of the ice and sprung to her feet. She still wore the dark armour acquired in Morag's service and sprung to the attack.

Chama did not move. The jagged black sword went through her lower abdomen and she groaned. Valen did not wait for an order and gave no warning. He struck silently; his flail hit Aribeth on the left of her chest and knocked her off to the side. He stepped forward quickly to stand between Aribeth and Chama, a snarl rolling low in his throat.

"I am Lady Aribeth de Tylmarande," the spirit said as she rose to her feet to face Valen defiantly, "betrayer of the city of Neverwinter. What is it that you want of me?"

"You were cold, Aribeth, so I warmed you," Chama answered, clutching her bleeding side.

"I'm a traitor, will you trust me? I'm dead, will you return me to life? I'm hated, will you love me? I've lost my innocence, will you help me find it? …Save your breath. There are some things you can't get back."

"Don't you recognize me, Aribeth? You, of all people, should understand that I know you can't get innocence back."

The blackguard stared at the mage for a while. "I guess I did not want to know I recognized you. That's funny. I don't think I know myself anymore. I know my name, I know the facts and details of my life, I know the story of my fall. All of it seems like some twisted fairy tale, like a story about someone else from long ago. Why did you light that fire?"

Chama sighed. "I am fighting to keep what I have left of innocence, Aribeth. Meeting in Hell someone I feel I have wronged in life, I felt I should do something for you."

The paladin smiled with wicked amusement. "So you feel you wronged me? How interesting a way to put the fact that you killed me."

Chama's temper rose. "I killed you because there was no choice when the moment came, Aribeth. I think I wronged you when I cared nothing about the dreams that drove you insane."

Aribeth laughed harshly. "And who is speaking now? Neverwinter's most famous and most honoured dirty back-alley cutthroat! The Many-starred Cloak's shame!"

"You don't need to throw names at me; I know who I was and who I am now. Maybe you revel in the name 'Betrayer of Neverwinter', but I am not a spirit whose name is all she has left."

Aribeth's eyes narrowed. "Why did you wake me only to insult and torment me, if you truly changed so much, my good Chamaedaphne?"

"I did not wake you to insult and torment you! I woke you because… because I thought I owed you something. Because I thought I had to take you out of the Hell I didn't try to keep you from falling in."

Aribeth glared distrustfully at Chama.

"I understand you challenged Mephistopheles?" Chama said to break the silence.

"Yes, if you are the one spirit he spoke of," Valen muttered.

"He was devouring us, eating our very souls to build his army… I'll serve no army! Never again! I served Tyr, I served Lord Nasher, I served Morag and her Old Ones! All my life I've worn their colours, waved their flags…"

Despite how much of Chama's blood slowly dripped down in the white snow, Valen found that he could feel sympathy for this spirit.

"I, too," he said, "marched behind the standards of a distant war. It changes you, that much is sure."

Aribeth resumed her explanation of her meeting with Mephistopheles, how he had listened to her until she had nothing more to say.

"There, in the silence, he gave voice to the one secret I have harboured within me for so long… Fenthick Moss, cleric of Tyr, hung as a traitor, the man I was about to marry, the man I've always said I loved… I never loved him… I never loved him and somehow Mephistopheles knew the truth."

Chama observed quietly Aribeth for a long moment. She was not an expert about failed love stories, having been solitary all her long life. She had known Fenthick Moss however, and he had been a gentle, kind, sickly sweet young elf. He had seemed a match for Aribeth at the time – even if Chama had given preciously little thought to either of them while in Neverwinter during the time of the Plague. She could imagine a young elf fooling herself that she loved such a man because she needed love and it was a simple story.

"Everyone makes mistakes, Aribeth. Besides, sometimes love comes in time." Valen felt his heart skip a beat at those words, especially because she was blushing, but he did not move and Chama went on. "Why is whether or not you loved him so important?"

Anger and pain raged in Aribeth's eyes.

"Don't you see? When they hung him, I abandoned my church, my faith, my god. I led an army of evil against Neverwinter, my own city. I wrought destruction on the world and damned my soul to the Hells."

"Yet you didn't love him?", Valen asked.

"And to have not done that out of love, out of grief, out of righteous anger? My entire life has been a lie. A paladin of vanity, a blackguard of denial, they were equal poisons coursing through my veins."

"Aribeth, stop," Chama pleaded. "You were grieving and angry, and you have done what you have done. Not everything is a lie. Some things are mistakes, not lies. You must realize it's only Mephistopheles playing with your soul because you are in his realm, and it amuses him to make you feel that way. He is toying with you. You refused to serve him, but don't let him toy with you either. You would _please_ him and that would be far worse than serving him."

Again, the paladin laughed harshly.

"Then he has succeeded, for here I am in the middle of things, neither good nor evil, neither paladin nor blackguard, wanting nothing but to become nothing and meld my soul into the essence of Cania."

"Didn't Tyr choose you as his paladin? Do you doubt his wisdom?" _My skill at convincing isn't getting better if I have to resort to speaking of Tyr with a blackguard_, Chama thought to herself.

"Yes, I do. I doubt everything, even myself. Gods can make mistakes, as can devils, as can ghosts, as can mortals. How could Tyr still want me after all I've done?"

"Tyr knows your heart, Aribeth. He knew it when He chose you. I think He was pushed away by Morag. Let Him decide if He will take you."

The paladin turned the idea in her head a few times. "Let Tyr decide… You present an argument I can't refute, Chamaedaphne. Perhaps my faith has been refined by your fire and strengthened by this ice. Very well, I shall do as you say…" Aribeth knelt on the frozen ice, putting the tip of her sword on the ground and taking the hilt in both hands. "On this blade, on my names, both true and given, and on all the good and evil I have done in life, I commit all the days that remain to me, for better or for worse, to Tyr and his justice. Let it be so!"

A white light flashed and cleansed Aribeth's armour. She remained on her knees for a while, blinking in disbelief, and finally Chama shook her shoulder with a smile.

"There, see? I told you He knew you could make mistakes. He knew you were not perfect, and He accepted you even if you were not."

Aribeth got up on her feet and looked from Valen to Chama as though she truly saw them for the first time.

"I am sorry I hurt you."

"I know, it was only the confusion of the moment. It's not a problem."

"Have you need of company?" Aribeth asked.

"Well… why not," Chama answered with a smile. "Three redeemed souls together in Hell, what a lovely portrait. Welcome aboard, Aribeth."

Valen looked at Chama with his eyes heavily clouded in grey.

"My lady, your wound looks serious. We should find a warmer place and tend to this as soon as possible."

"I was thinking of going to the tavern and see if we can find a corner where to rest anyway. There must be a place where the pilgrims and other planars stay when they are in Baator, and somehow I don't think it's the ice quarry. So I would try the Hellbreath tavern."

Valen nodded his agreement, and they were off.


	26. Chama's First Confidences

Chapter XXV. Chama's first confidences

As it turned out, the tavern did offer accommodations for planar pilgrims. Even though Valen did not like the idea of a wounded Chama left alone with a former blackguard, he did not protest openly when the paladin offered to tend to the mage's wound. He merely went straight into his room and stood silently by the adjoining wall, listening to the two women's voices. They spoke quietly, their tone heavy with sadness, and even though he did not try to hear their words, at least he could make sure that Aribeth was not attempting anything against Chama.

After a while the voices fell silent and Valen heard the door opening and closing. The tiefling closed his eyes for a while, set his shoulders and gathered his resolve, and he went to knock on Chama's door.

"Come in," came Chama's tired voice.

He opened and entered her room. The apartments at the tavern were far from luxury, but at least there was a real bed and many braziers that kept the biting cold at bay along the outer walls. There was no working table in the room, so Chama sat on her bed with her spellbook in her lap, and she held up a Candle cantrip in her left hand.

When he saw the black dots on her fingers, the skin peeling off her cold-burned ears, and her dark-circled eyes, he realized this was far from the right time to speak of what concerned him.

"My lady," he suggested worriedly, "you should drink a potion. I can see the cold has frozen your fingers and they start to gangrene."

She looked at her hand, then shrugged and started to put her book aside to reach for the potions in her pack.

"If you will allow me?", he asked as he lifted her pack from the ground and set it on the bed next to her. She gestured him ahead with a smile and he handed her a healing potion which potency agreed with the gravity of her wounds. He observed worriedly as she drank it down, and thankfully the dots disappeared from her skin.

_He really looks concerned_, Chama thought with uneasy perplexity. His eyes were highly disturbing clouded in grey like that.

"Did you come just to make sure I would drink a potion, Valen? You know I would, if only to avoid your reprimands in the morning."

He smiled. "No, my lady. I am also concerned with your safety. Being a mage, I thought it safer if you did not sleep alone in this place; the innkeeper seems less than honourable. I would not dare, however, to advise you to share a room with the lady paladin. I am… not sure of her intentions, and I would not be at ease to know that you are at her mercy."

Chama smiled. "That's certainly sweet to worry for me like that, but I'll be fine. I'll lock the door and leave a nasty surprise or two for anyone trying to force it."

Valen sighed. "As you wish, Chama."

"About… about Aribeth… I would tell you what happened to her… and a bit of my past… Maybe you will not be so suspicious of her, if you understand her."

"I would like to, my lady. Even as an angry ghost, she was obviously in pain."

Chama sighed. "With good reason. Even I cannot help but think that Tyr abandoned her somewhere along the way. When I arrived in Neverwinter… I was… I was very angry with the world. I tended to control it badly and to take it out on anyone weaker than me. I was… I was just what Aribeth called me: a dirty back-alley cutthroat, complete with the grime, the ragged dagger, the sticky fingers and the dark soul. One day I killed two men in a brawl in a… less commendable tavern, and I was thrown into the palace's prison for disorder and murder. But Aribeth thought I would serve a better use if I was sent to the academy. She probably hoped that I could be 'redeemed' by faith in her god if I was educated properly. So I trained with the other recruits. They didn't really like me much. I was older, worldlier, I had already been into more than one real fight, and I was not very nice to them.

"The Academy was attacked just as I was about to be 'set free' of its stupid rules, as I thought of it, which meant I was about to graduate. I couldn't have cared less about the attack. I was just impatient to try all those new tricks of mine on those that dared to assault me. What happened then, what I did… at the time I told myself I had done what I had to in order to survive, but the right way to say things is that I made a bloody and unnecessary carnage of all those who came to face me."

At that she stopped and closed her eyes briefly, before she looked back at Valen with a sheepish look. He had not moved, his eyes a calm cyan blue, while he listened.

"This earned me a reputation and, later, when the cure's reagents were lost, Aribeth asked me to retrieve them. As a paladin of Tyr, Lord Nasher had charged her with recovering the cure. I remember wondering if Aribeth herself could be that traitor who had sold out the cure's location, but then again, I was of a suspicious nature – worse than a drow, I tell you – and I didn't trust Fenthick either, nor the invisible Lord Nasher, nor Desther.

"It was Fenthick who was in charge of discovering the traitor. The byplay between these two… between Aribeth and Fenthick… the teeth and claws of Tyr, they were called. They were just perfect for each other. But they were also very young, at least by elven standards. No matter what Mephistopheles did to Aribeth's mind while she was here, it _is_ possible that she only _believed_ she was in love, because she was too young to know the difference. Elves… it takes us a lot of time to get some sense knocked into our heads." She grimaced. "I wish _I_ had the excuse of naïve youth to explain my behaviour of the time.

"Anyway, it turned out that the traitor was Desther. He stole the cure for himself during the ritual leading to its completion." _And to think I had been thinking of the gold of my reward at that moment_, Chama remembered with a familiar stab of shame and revulsion for herself. "Fenthick followed Desther through the portal he had used to flee. Fenthick was, as Aribeth told me later, a well-intentioned fool, but a fool nevertheless. He desperately wanted to believe it was all a misunderstanding and that Desther needed help to accomplish something else, something better… He needed to see Helm's Keep devastated to be convinced of Desther's treachery, and it broke him.

"I brought Desther to his knees in battle and took him prisoner. I went back to Neverwinter with the traitor, the cure, and Fenthick too. Once the plague had been cured, Lord Nasher had Desther burned at the pyre… and Fenthick hung."

Valen let out a surprised gasp. "The city's Lord ordered Fenthick hung? When he was no traitor?"

Chama nodded grimly. "He did. The city demanded blood, and Lord Nasher gave it to them. Aribeth, Nasher's right arm, was forced to watch while her lover was hung. She stood by her Lord's side loyally even as people turned away from her, and Nasher himself ordered Fenthick's death."

Chama closed her eyes. When she spoke, her voice was hoarse. "I stood there, and all I thought was, _the fool had it coming to him_. I watched Fenthick die thinking he had been stupid to follow Desther, when in fact I was the one being stupid. I had not tried to protect him when I brought him back. I was a heartless harpy not giving an ounce of thought for Aribeth. But I would not listen to this so very small voice at the back of my head. Rage speaks much louder than reason."

"That is true," Valen assented in a murmur.

"After that, I was sent with Nasher's forces to search for Desther's accomplices to the North. Aribeth was there, under Lord Nasher's orders, to 'take revenge' for Neverwinter and for Fenthick. There… she started to have dreams, dreadful dreams, of Tyr abandoning her, of her being left alone in the darkness and of Fenthick going away from her. It turned out it was visions sent by Morag, an imprisoned queen of an ancient race, who sought to free herself. I don't understand how Tyr can have let Morag seep into the dreams of one of his followers like that. It is as though he abandoned her… or maybe she renounced him when Fenthick was hung.

"And so, rather than do nothing to hold justice for Fenthick, Aribeth in her rage decided to take action against Neverwinter. She accepted command of the invader's army. She knew the city well, so it suffered from her attacks. When I came back to Neverwinter… after many adventures of my own… I met her again. She… she was so torn. She said she was no fool like Maugrim, that she knew that Morag would only use her and then sacrifice her. She said that she _expected_ to die at my hands, that it was her punishment for her actions.

"She was so full of rage and anger against Neverwinter, yet she bore guilt for her actions. She could not completely turn evil. She could not be simply evil; she was evil because she was in pain." Chama closed her eyes and was silent a long time.

"Chama, my lady… please look at me."

She opened her eyes again, blinking back shining tears.

"My lady, why can't you look at me when you… when you tell me…?"

She visibly forced her eyes up to meet his, and spoke in a voice half-choked with tears. "What Aribeth did… an evil, exaggerated vengeance for pain inflicted to her… I have done it too. That is why I could not condemn her and leave her to rot in Hell. Because what I have done in my life may be worse than even what she did, and you… you have told me that I do not deserve to be damned to Hell. Then how could I let Aribeth be lost?" Chama closed her eyes again, heavy tears rolling down her cheeks. "When I look at people and tell them these things, their eyes become some kind of mirror. Their grimacing faces reflect the utter horror of the fact that I continue to exist."

Valen put his hand lightly on Chama's arm.

"Look at your mirror, my lady. It will tell you what you need to know."

She looked up to him through her tears, and he wanted to take her in his arms and hug her until she was not crying anymore. However, this was hardly practical at the moment. For one thing, he wore his complete suit of armour and could hardly sit next to her, much less hug her. For another part, he had a feeling he must be asking her permission before he touched her with any familiarity at all; there was a strange, almost palpable distance she kept between herself and the others.

He cautiously schooled his features and kept his eyes the clearest cyan he could conjure as he looked at her velvety black eyes. He held her arm a little tighter. The pits of pain in her eyes seem to recede somewhat and her tears gradually dried. Finally, breaking eye contact, she rubbed her face. She looked at him again sheepishly, one last look at his clear blue eyes.

He smiled gently. "Remember, my lady, that if you ever need a mirror… I am here."

She nodded wordlessly, and he could almost see the words stuck in her throat. Suddenly embarrassed, he blushed.

"I… Forgive me for disturbing you for so long. I am but a door away if you have need of me."

She nodded again, catching his hand just as he let go of her arm. She gave it a brief squeeze, and his blush crept higher on his neck and ears. He bowed his head and got out.

He scowled his best at the devils looking his way while he swiftly crossed the few meters separating him from his room's door. As soon as the door closed, however, he leaned back on it thoughtfully.

Chama had never revealed anything about her past. He wondered how he could love her when a whole part of her history was a complete mystery to him. And to think that the secret spread over four centuries was another thing to take into account. However, it did not change his conviction that he had been right to tell her to look to him as a mirror, because he did love her. He loved who she was, and if it meant loving who she had been to make her evolve into this marvellous and strong woman, then he would.

He also realized how difficult it was for her to confide in anyone. He considered himself her close friend, and judging by her partial description of her past, she probably had few. She had told him that she had been evil because she had been in pain, like Aribeth, but she had not told him the cause of her distress. He could not inquire about it without risking rushing her, and he would not chance that. Still, he was curious and worried about what had been done to her.

_You have to be patient, Valen_, he reminded himself firmly._ She will come to you in time. Do not ruin her trust in you – because she does trust you, to have told you of her past. You just have to wait for her._

He sighed and began removing his armour for the night, and it reminded him that, if he had not worn it, he would have sat next to her. His eyes darkened a shade or two while he wondered if she would have accepted his arm around her shoulders. Both his arms around her. If she would have abandoned her head on his shoulder. If she would have nestled against his chest.

He stopped short. _You fool, don't think about that, you won't sleep. And you're tired._ He sighed, leaned back in his bed, and closed his eyes. Sleep did elude him for a while.


	27. The Search for True Names

_New chapter! On schedule!!!_

Chapter XXVI. The Search for True Names

After walking around the City of Lost Souls and seeing nothing beyond its last buildings but an infinite expanse of cruel cold ice, it quickly became obvious that Aribeth, Valen and Chama needed some sort of plan to acquire Mephistopheles' True Name. One of their most promising leads currently lay in one of the buildings: the angelic Sleeping Man who, as the story went, had descended to Hell in search of his one true love's name. Chama reasoned that, if the celestial had attempted to discover the True Name of his would-be lover, then retracing his steps would be a good start. Unfortunately, the gith sensei refused to let them see him, much less explore his dreams, before they had learned the five mysteries of the Sleeping Man.

So Aribeth, Valen and Chama searched for those five mysteries. Having no idea where to look, they lost a whole day questioning everyone, mostly in vain, though they did eventually manage to uncover all the mysteries. Chama had not thought that night would fall in Hell, but dusk darkened the sky when the gith sensei gave them access to the chamber where lay the Sleeping Man.

The long cold corridor made the warm, hushed and holy atmosphere of the chamber more striking when they crossed the threshold.

"Do you feel it?" Aribeth exclaimed. "The Sleeping Man, he exudes goodness… It's like being young again, like being back in the temple in Neverwinter, like being alive! You can feel it, can't you?"

Chama nodded. "Yes. I can feel it. I understand why the gith consider it a pilgrimage to come here. There is a happiness here."

"And a sadness, too. Happiness because his love is coming to him, sadness because she is not yet here. That's how hope works, I think… The two mingle."

"That's how you feel too, isn't it?" Chama inquired quietly.

"Some ghosts haunt and some are haunted. I guess I'm one of the latter. But yes, thanks to you, Chamaedaphne, I guess I'm hopeful… Now let's do what we came here to do."

Neither of them was gifted with the necessary focus to use the sensei's amulet, so they backtracked to the shops of Gru'ul and Rizolvir. After downing the potion of owl's wisdom purchased from Gru'ul, Aribeth could catch glimpses of the Sleeping Man's dreams. Looking around the room, she quickly spotted the secret door she had seen in the angel's reverie. She led her companions over and Chama quickly found the trigger mechanism. When she pushed on a stone separated from its mortar by a hairline, the door slowly turned on its hinges and revealed a dark passageway.

"Here we really begin our search for the True Names," Chama declared, and she plunged down into the secret corridor, Valen and Aribeth close behind her.

ooooo

In the depths of the secret caves below the haven of the Sleeping Man, they found three pieces of a ring, fiercely guarded by skeletons. Valen and Aribeth dispatched the skeletons and Chama assembled the ring pieces, following the instructions of a prayer the Sleeping Man had scribed long ago. When Chama tried the ring on, she saw a very different vision of the world. She even discovered, in the Sleeping Man's chambers, a chest that could not be seen otherwise.

Exiting the Temple of the Sleeping Man, the team walked around a bit so Chama could test the ring. Warily, Chama followed the conspicuous red arrows that appeared, floating in the air, when she slipped the ring on her finger. She could only hope they would lead her to the Knower of Places, who could reveal the location of the Knower of Names.

The arrows eventually guided them outside of the City of Lost Souls, to a cliff pierced, to Chama's amazement, by a planar door. She opened the door, but could see nothing beyond the threshold but a shimmering surface, as though of a portal. Taking Valen's and Aribeth's hands in her own, she crossed the door. The three comrades ended up on a wind-beaten and frozen plain populated by ice trolls. Quickly making their way to the nearest ravine, they set up camp around a large fire started with velox berries. Chama released a spell which afforded them a magical shelter, so they did not lose all of their fire's heat to the relentless wind.

Valen removed his armour and busied himself polishing a part of it, Chama studied her spells and Aribeth prayed and cleaned her sword and shield. After taking care of his chain mail, Valen stood up and announced he would take a turn of guard. He asked Aribeth to join him once she was done with her prayers.

She emerged from the shelter shortly, pulling her hood down on her slender ears to ward off the cold.

"Aribeth," Valen began, "I… I need to speak with Chama. Would you mind scouting around a bit… for an hour maybe?"

Aribeth arched an eyebrow and smiled slyly. "Of course, Valen. Make this two hours."

"Thank you. Don't let yourself freeze in the cold though."

"I will not try that again, trust me. Now go talk to her."

Aribeth set off into the night. Valen watched her until she passed out of earshot and went back in with Chama. The mage lifted her eyes from her spellbook.

"Where's Aribeth?"

Valen cleared his throat. "She went scouting around a bit."

The elf nodded and immediately put her nose back in her magical formulas. Sitting next to her, Valen waited a few minutes while she finished her studies. Finally she put her book down, sighed deeply and stretched.

"Might we speak?"

"Yes, Valen?"

Suddenly his rehearsed speech seemed harder to deliver. He rubbed his chin, unsure how to continue.

"We might meet our end at any time now, and there is something I would like to get off my chest first."

"Keep morale for the troops' sake, my warrior. We _will_ get out of here. But I'd like to hear what you want to say."

He took a breath and set his shoulders. "We have not known each other for long. I wanted you to know, however, that in the brief time we've spent together I've… come to feel quite close to you."

There was a silence. The hue of Valen's blue eyes was a shade darker than usually. Chama blinked owlishly several times. _I am not prepared for this. I am not ready for this._ A great swirl of confusion, memory and hope rose in her. _Buy time._ She asked, her voice low and unsure, "Close in what way?"

"I… I think I've come to know you quite well. I believe we have a companionship, perhaps even something more than that. Do you… not feel the same?"

His face glowed with hopefulness and open sincerity. His formal approach, intense stare and nervous countenance made it plain that there was more to his words than this. A great battle raged within her, confusing her even more. _I don't know what to do._ Valen kept looking at her hopefully. _I don't know what I want._

Valen's eyes no longer seemed harsh to her. Their surreal colour, clear and intense, merely spoke of hesitant hopefulness. Valen very patiently awaited her answer, respecting her need for time despite his own discomfort. _That's not true,_ Chama realized._ I know what I want. I'm just too cowardly to admit it to myself. And to him._

"I… I feel close to you too, Valen."

He smiled shyly and looked away briefly. When he turned to her again, his eyes, always so expressive, were bright and filled with emotion.

"I am most glad to hear it, my lady. My life has been one of nothing but rage and despair. Even after I came to the Seer, I still believed that gaining my humanity was the most I could aspire to. I do not feel that way anymore. I believe there is something greater I could aspire to."

Staring into Chama's eyes, he tentatively reached out and took one of her hands.

"I… I love you, my lady. With all my heart."

He looked at her anxiously as the silence stretched. Her face was pale, her black eyes unreadable. Her lower lip started to quiver. Valen sat there, petrified, waiting. _You know what you want now,_ she reminded herself._ How hard can it be to say it? Come on, say it!_ Her lips worked as though she was trying to say something, and finally she closed her eyes a moment. _Alright, you fool, calm down. It's not so hard. I know you can. It won't change anything in him. He'll still be the same and you'll just feel better when he's around. Now don't keep him waiting any longer. He doesn't deserve that._ She opened her eyes again and, with great effort, lifted them until she stared into his cyan eyes.

"I love you too, Valen."

She wondered how she finally managed to say the words. _He doesn't know what he's getting into. I'm tremendously bad at all this stuff._ There were things she would have to explain to him. But not right now. One of these emotional declarations was more than enough for the night.

Her voice and her hands shook. Valen smiled, one of his rare unchecked smiles that discovered his teeth and lighted his eyes, finding it touching that a forty-three decades-old elf blushed like a girl. Putting a hand on her slim and delicate shoulder, he leaned forward slowly, and he felt her tense as he inched nearer. She did not pull away, and when his lips brushed hers, she relaxed somewhat. He kissed her slowly, but with a hint of promise.

"It is more than I could have hoped for that you might return my feelings, my lady. Nothing could make me happier."

Her hand, icy despite the fire and the shelter, tightened hesitantly over his. Squeezing it between his, he gently rubbed warmth into her fingers. He looked at her adoringly, content with the silence and her hand in his.

Finally, she broke the silence. "What do you see happening between us, Valen?"

He grinned. "I do not know, truly. All I know is that you are the most amazing woman I have ever encountered." He gently caressed her cheek. "Any future we have is enough for me."

She slid closer to sit next to him, while he held her hand in both of his. She looked up to him, looking uncertain and disbelieving.

"It's good that you hold my hand."

She stated it as an unexpected surprise and he grinned.

"Has no one ever held your hand before," he asked in jest, "in those forty-three decades of your life?"

A weird look crossed her face. For a moment Valen's smile faded, something unpleasant gripping at his heart in response to a flicker in her eyes.

"My mother and father have held my hand, and others of my family, but no one in this way. Only you."

"Then I am honoured, my lady, that you trust me to be the first one to."

She cast her eyes down and visibly debated something with herself, and finally she slid closer until her shoulder leaned against his.

"Would you like to be the first one to hold me close in this way?"

He had been refraining from intruding into her personal space, but if she asked… Snaking an arm around her waist and the other around her shoulders, he pulled her onto his lap. He slid his hand up in her silky hair, and he pressed her against his chest.

"I thought you'd never ask," he breathed, taking in her perfume. Under the smell of magical soot and reagents, it was sweet and flowery, but subtle and he could not quite identify it. She shivered slightly, either from the cold or from nervousness. Valen happily remained motionless for a long time.

Suddenly she shook and buried her head into his shoulder, sliding her arms around his neck. With a start, he realized she was sobbing.

"My love! What's wrong?"

He tried to pull back to see her face, but she clung to him with the desperate strength of a shipwreck. Between sobs she choked out, "Nothing's wrong, Valen! Nothing's wrong!"

He patted her shoulder, uncertain what else he could do. When her sobs refused to recede after a few minutes, he asked her, "If nothing is wrong, why do you cry?"

"Because it feels so good! And I never thought I'd… I'd… be loved and held like this." _I never thought I could like it._ "And I was so _tired_ of never having been loved. I… am so tired of this former life I carry around everywhere with me."

Sighing, he kissed the top her head. "We all have a past, my love." She smiled timidly at this new way of naming her. "Just don't let it rule you. I love you. From now on someone will always love you."

She did not say anything to that. Tentatively, she lowered her head and settled in the hollow of his shoulder. He had been craving for such close contact for weeks. After a timeless moment, she lifted and tilted her head, her keen elven ears picking up a distant sound. Valen held his breath so she could listen better.

"I think Ari's coming back," she declared.

She slid out of his lap and, when she stole a look at his face, the deep cobalt of his eyes startled her.

"Your eyes are a colour I've never seen before."

Valen cleared his throat and concentrated for a second, until his eyes shifted back to their usual cyan. "It… was good to hold you," he explained.

She blushed and turned away. At that moment, Aribeth stumbled in, her bleeding leg not holding any weight.

"Met a troll," Aribeth explained succinctly. "And his three friends."

"Don't worry, I'll fix that," Chama replied, already looking at the wound. "Valen, if you would please wait outside while I tend to Ari…"

Valen bowed and went out, while Chama started loosening the ties of Aribeth's lower armour. The biting cold and the infernal taint of the Hells greeted the tiefling when he step foot outside the magical shelter. "Lovely," he muttered to himself. His heart, which had beaten with euphoria just a moment ago, hardened cruelly from the reminder of where he was and what fights still awaited him. "We have to get out of here soon."

ooooo

The next planar door they had to cross led to a mimic's lair. Chama stepped in first, dragging Aribeth and Valen behind by holding their hands. As soon as the black flash of the planar door dissipated, a fiendish hand flew to them and gripped the front of Chama's robe.

Valen struck as fast as a viper and gripped the hand. He wrestled against it, but the hand kept pulling on Chama's clothes and Valen would strangle Chama if he did not let go. So he did.

Pulling it over the elf's head, the hand took off with Chama's robe. Valen caught a brief glimpse of her lithe, athletic body, all in slender and supple muscles and round curves, with scars on her abdomen, before he turned his head away and cleared his throat. Behind them, Aribeth tried to hide her giggles, but failed utterly when Chama sat on the cold ground in her silk underwear. Hugging her knees to her chest, Chama tried concealing herself, while she clumsily searched through her pack with only one hand.

Valen unclasped his cloak and, politely looking over Chama's shoulder, he draped it over her shoulders. Once she had wrapped it around herself, he looked down at her and smiled.

"Do you keep a spare robe somewhere? It must be cold, and I hardly imagine you casting while clutching my cape around yourself."

She blushed. "In my pack, in the third bag of holding from the right, there's my old Battlerobe."

Valen looked through her pack and handed her the dress. He turned his back on her while she slipped it on, and they set off after the mimic.

The mimic died a death of terrible fire, though it did not quite seem to satisfy Chama, since she felt the need to scorch the carcass further with a few maximized fireballs of her own. Once back in her robe, she seemed able to forget the incident.

Valen, however, experienced a few pleasant but uncomfortable dreams that would have embarrassed him greatly had he attracted the attention of either one of the two ladies standing guard…


	28. A Rest

_New chapter! Nearly on schedule:)_

Chapter XXVII. A Rest

Valen lost all notion of time while journeying through Hell. They were now across the River Styx, thanks to Gargamesh's grappling hand. They had taken the devil's severed hand from the mimic and now, instead of taking off with people's clothes, it allowed them to manipulate distant objects or move across obstacles such as the Styx.

They had fought many trolls on the way, and the knee-deep snow slowed their progress considerably. However, many underground mazes dotted their route, where the local populations of tieflings and devils took over the role of the snow and trolls in hampering their advance. Valen was beginning to feel the exhaustion of extended battle wear him down.

He stole a look at Chama walking behind him, checking for traps and stranger contraptions visible through her displacing ring. Her helmet obscured her face, and it occurred to him that he had not seen it in days. It meant she had worn her circlet, and her ring of clear thought over it, for days on end. Moreover, her constant displacement from the tapestry of existence afforded by her ring started to give off an unwholesome feeling.

Valen stopped abruptly and Chama belatedly lifted her head to look at him.

"It's time we take a break," he declared.

Aribeth also looked drawn, her silhouette becoming more ethereal with each passing hour. Valen led them to a corner where they could hold a defence up front. Chama, Valen and Aribeth set up the bedrolls and the tent, more for privacy than for protection against the weather. The thin cloth offered meagre shelter against the brittle cold.

Surprising a look of utter worry and tenderness on Valen's face while he looked at Chama, Aribeth decided the two lovebirds deserved a moment alone.

"I'll scout around a bit," she announced. "I'll try not to meet a troll and his friends this time."

Valen nodded distractedly. Searching near their camp, he gathered wood and debris to build up a fire. He had just put down the last twig when the wood ignited itself. After turning around to smile gratefully at Chama, he put water in a pan over the fire.

"My love, you need to remove this ring," he said, his voice rough. "You start to blend out of existence. It worries me."

With an effort, Chama lifted her hand and removed the Sleeping Man's ring. Immediately she was completely back into this world.

"I think it would be time to remove your circlet too for a while."

She removed the helmet slowly. It had plastered her hair on her head, and her face was pale and drawn. Valen sighed.

"My love, you are driving yourself too hard."

Groaning from the accumulated pain of a long series of almost uninterrupted battles, he crouched next to her and took her hand.

"We need to get out of here, Granduc," she countered with a helpless shrug.

"Yes, but we need to be alive in order to do so. Rest, I'll take care of the tea and rations."

Disappearing inside the tent, she slipped in her bedroll and dozed off lightly while Valen moved about, heating the rations and preparing the tea. Their simple meal did not take long to prepare, and soon he entered the tent, a teapot and a pan of Hell road rations in his hands. They ate, sitting side by side on Chama's bedroll. Her stomach full with food and hot tea, Chama felt a quiet and warm sensation overcome her.

"I really must have been exhausted. I'm feeling much better now that I've eaten something."

Valen smiled at her and devoured his third helping of rations. When he finished, he gave no inclination to move out of the tent or away from her. She lifted a hand and tentatively ran it over one of his horns, before threading through his red hair. He closed his eyes and smiled slowly.

"Thank you, Granduc. You were right to call a rest, and it was really nice of you to take care of the dinner."

Sensing her weariness, Valen moved off her bedroll and tucked her in.

"Sleep now, my love. I will watch over you."

Chama gave him a strange look and he waited, curious as to its meaning.

"Would you… would you lie with me for a while?" she asked at length.

His throat constricted and he did not trust himself to speak. He slid down on the hard cold floor next to her, and she rolled aside to invite him on her bedroll. Instead, he pulled his own makeshift bed next to hers, leaving the spot closest to the fire to her in a thoughtful attention that made her smile.

With his full armour on, he could hardly hug her, so he just lay next to her, propped on an elbow, with his free hand gently playing through her hair.

"What do you plan to do once this is all over?", she asked, looking dreamily at the roof of the tent.

He pondered her question a moment. Between the night before facing the Valsharess, when he had felt for the first time that he had a future of his own, and now, embroiled to the neck in the snow and ice of Cania, he had not elaborated many long term plans.

"I'm not certain," he confessed. "There was a time that I believed I would return to the surface and continue to serve at the Seer's temple. Now… perhaps not."

"What else would you do?", she asked quietly.

"Part of me wants to explore this world of yours," he explained. She smiled happily and hopefully at this statement, and it warmed his heart. "I have stayed too long in one place, and there is still much to see. Perhaps I will start with Waterdeep, itself. Eventually I would like to return to Sigil. I have not seen it since I was very young… I miss my glorious City of Doors. I miss the planar folk, the Sensatoriums and even the creatures that wander the streets."

He smiled warmly at Chama, one of his rare smiles that reached his eyes and made the harshness disappear.

"But, of course, all these thoughts are for naught if my lady wishes me to stay with her."

She squirmed, uncomfortable. "I don't want you to give up on your dreams and everything because of me."

He chuckled. "And I am not, my lady. I am gaining everything because I am with you." He caressed her cheek slowly. "That is all that matters to me, truly, nothing else. I am curious of one thing, however, my lady… what future do you envision for us? Do you foresee marriage? Children?"

He had taken her by surprise. She blushed and blinked a few times.

"I confess I haven't given it much thought. It hasn't been long since… well, since I've made my peace with what I feel for you."

"Your peace? What do you mean?", he asked a bit worriedly.

"Well, I've never been in love before, as I'm sure you've guessed from my skill at declaring my feelings to you. So at first… I was afraid."

"I hope I haven't acted in a way to intimidate you," he said, a worried frown on his forehead.

She laughed. "No. I could scare myself away without you having to do anything. So… it left me little time to elaborate plans. Moreover, we're in hell and my mind is pretty busy with figuring a way out of here, and we've only just met. So I just don't know… But what do _you_ think about this?"

For a moment, he tried to picture himself, without his armour or Devil's Bane, showing a child how to ride a horse, or changing a baby's swaddling clothes, or holding Chama's hand while her body was torn asunder so she could give birth to tiefling creatures…

"I have never given such a question much thought either," he admitted at last. And suddenly he grinned. "I would love a child, _your_ child, that is… but perhaps it is too soon for such thoughts?"

His smile disappeared at the sudden pain in Chama's eyes.

"Chama? I'm sorry. Whatever I said, I didn't mean to hurt you…"

"It's not you, Valen… I just don't know if I can ever have children. It never preoccupied me before, but now it… it saddens me."

"Why is it uncertain?", he asked gently.

Her eyes took a distant cast, the memories heavy with sadness. "When I was four, just before I left the lands of the elves, I was very sick. I had to keep the bed for months. I eventually healed, but I was weaker than before the illness. The priestesses said that I would always remain fragile, and that I might never bear children to term. I'm certain you have noticed that I can't withstand poison. That's one of the side effects of that distant sickness."

"I'm sorry."

She shrugged. "Thank you, but there's hardly anything at all to do now. There was hardly anything at all to do back then either."

"Would it be dangerous for you to… to try to carry children?", he asked again.

"I cannot know before I try."

There was a silence.

"I would understand if you did not wish to risk your life in this way," Valen declared.

She reached for his hand and squeezed it. "That means a lot to hear, Valen, but I think it's too soon to take such a decision… with all there is still awaiting us in terms of battle and all…"

He smiled, lifting her hand to kiss it. "It is good to know that the possibility is there. I am satisfied. Whatever else comes… let it come. I know there's much yet to do. And I, for one, can't wait for this to be over and the rest of our life to get started. But tonight, all we can accomplish is take a little rest. So sleep now, my love. I will watch over you."

She smiled, rolling up in her covers, and he kissed her cheek. She quickly fell asleep. He still lay there, caressing her hair gently, when he heard Aribeth coming back. He sat up in his bedroll, a little embarrassed. The half-elf slid silently into the tent, knowing in advance that Chama would be asleep already.

"I'll take the middle watch, Aribeth, if you prefer," Valen whispered.

The paladin hesitated, but finally she nodded her agreement and went back out of the tent. Valen lay down next to his beloved, who slept like a stone. His heart ached to see her tired and under so much pressure. He would watch her carefully in the next few days to make sure she did not exhaust herself too much.

He looked at her while she slept for a few minutes. It was a stolen moment of tranquility within the chaos they sowed on their way through Hell. He closed his eyes, putting his hand over Chama's, and fell asleep.


	29. Valen Gets Fried

Chapter XXVIII. Valen gets fried

When they resumed their march the next day, the red arrows guided them to a planar door located at the bottom of a hollow. Standing in deep shadow, it gave off a feeling of danger and foreboding. Chama, Aribeth and Valen caught their breath for a moment, before they passed the doors.

The planar interface led them inside a natural cave. Chama was instantly aware of the nature of the danger she had felt outside. Before them stood Grimgnaw, whose terrible power as a monk she remembered well from their adventures back in Neverwinter. He was flanked by the lich Balpheron, wearing a disturbingly powerful cloak – even from a distance, Chama could tell that half her spells would fail to seep through it – as well as the assassin Crimsom, the minotaur Koth and Maugrim himself.

Of course, Grimgnaw perceived her as a threat, and he explained that he planned to take over the ruler-ship of the Eighth Hell. _He has not changed_, Chama thought while she listened. Not surprisingly, even though she assured him she merely wanted out of Cania, and that she eagerly let him rule it for all eternity, he sprung to the attack.

Valen and Aribeth moved in with perfect coordination, forming an impenetrable wall of blade, swinging flail, buckler and armour. Chama stayed behind them and cast every protection she could on Valen; he had taken the front assault and Grimgnaw concentrated on hitting him.

Despite Chama's spells, Grimgnaw's fists and the minotaur's axe punched and chopped at Valen's armour. Chama had never seen him bleed out of so many wounds in so short a time. It felt as though someone had taken her heart in a fist and squeezed.

She cast her most powerful spell, an Isaac's Greater Missile Storm squeezed dry, knowing full well that only Grimgnaw and the minotaur would be hit – Balpheron stayed too far behind and invisibility protected Crimson and Maugrim. However, the concentration of the missiles on only the two most physical fighters suited her. She moved quickly to another missile storm, hoping to buy Valen time to drink a few potions.

Three missile storms in close succession left her panting heavily, her mind painful from her repeated attempts at casting faster. But it was not enough. Valen swayed dangerously on his feet, the weight of his flail dragging him out of balance each time he swung. He had already downed all his potions. Aribeth was trying to lay hands on him, but Maugrim hacked at her. Valen screamed a challenge in a desperate voice.

"You cannot win this fight!"

Pivoting his torso far to the right, he took a long run-up with his flail and swung hard to the left. His flail mercilessly crushed Grimgnaw's skull. Unfortunately, the move had dragged him too far and left him wide open on his right side. The minotaur's axe completed its downward move and struck down hard into Valen's exposed side. In a devastating backhand blow, the tiefling swung back the head of his flail to smash into the minotaur's face, who was still struggling to free his axe from Valen's chopped armour.

Valen collapsed in a heap, entangled with the agonizing minotaur.

Chama saw red. She screamed, lifted her hands and rammed a fireball at the minotaur's body. The monster burned down to a disgusting mass of fuming fur and scorched flesh.

But then Chama heard Aribeth's grunts of pain and snapped out of it. She turned to see the paladin hard-pressed by Maugrim and by Balpheron.

Chama's spellcraft did not only allow her to win contests in pre-cantrip casting against a drow High Wizard; she identified Maugrim's protective spells at first glance. She snorted derisively. She had battled him before, and he had not innovated in the field of tactics. She dispelled his protections with two well-chosen spells, then scorched him with a fireball, and he went down when Aribeth's sword ran him through the heart.

"Take down the lich!" Chama ordered. "He's resistant to magic! I'll take care of the assassin!"

Aribeth did not hesitate and ran to battle Balpheron, assisted by one of Chama's spells that abjured the magical protection of the undead creature. Aribeth hit hard and long against the magically-strengthened bones, until finally she sent the head flying. Meanwhile, Chama dispelled the assassin's invisibility and summoned a greater elemental to distract her. Aribeth beheaded her adversary and turned just in time to see boulders of ice falling heavily on Crimson and breaking her neck.

Chama remained still a second, checking that all their enemies were defeated, and she turned to Aribeth.

"Please, stand guard for a while."

And she collapsed by Valen's side. Feverishly pulling the minotaur away from her beloved, she carefully felt his neck for a pulse. She found none. With shaking hands and tears blurring her vision, Chama precipitously went through her pack. It took her a while to find the Rod of Resurrection, a long forgotten item that gathered dust in her pack since the middle level of Undermountain. Gingerly, she pointed the wand's end at Valen and uttered its activating word of power.

Valen's armour creaked as he took a breath. Letting out a wordless gasp, Chama threw herself atop him to hug him. As quickly as she had latched unto him, she jumped off and looked down at him.

"Oh, I'm so glad these things exist! I thought I had lost you!"

Valen shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. "I feel like a fool for having died," he said.

"A fool?", she exclaimed. "Valen, you're not a fool! How many men would have run away before the final hit, leaving me to be cleft in half by that minotaur's axe? How many men would have given their life for me, like you have? You're not a fool! You're a courageous man who will sacrifice himself for his companions. If not for you, I would have died here today! I know I would. No offence, Ari, but you can't take as many hits as he can."

"And I don't swing as hard, I know," the paladin answered, amused at Chama's sudden passion.

Valen smiled. Being showered in gratefulness and compliments always felt good. "I am grateful you saw fit to give me another chance," he added.

Suddenly she became shy. "I would hope you'd do the same for me."

Valen looked up at her, his clear blue eyes intense and his face grim. Reaching out with a rough hand, his callused warrior hand, he brushed her cheek tenderly.

She so liked his contrasts.

"I would storm the Nine Hells themselves to bring you back to me, I swear it," he declared.

Chama smiled at him shyly, and he dragged himself to his feet, despite the gaping wound in his side and the hundred of other cuts and punches puncturing his whole body.

"Then it begins again." He turned to give Chama another intense look. "I swear to stand at your side, my love, and guard you unto my last breath… and beyond."

"You're quickly drifting to 'beyond' again," she remarked. "We don't have healing potions strong enough to set you back on your feet. I'll do what I can with a healing kit, but then we'll have to rest so you can recuperate. Stay here for a while; Ari and I will look around to make sure there's no threat."

He nodded and waited while she circled the cavern with the paladin, checking for traps or secret passages. Once secure in the knowledge that nothing would come upon them unexpectedly, they set camp in an adjacent chamber. Valen collapsed in a corner with a grunt and Aribeth and Chama pitched the tent and prepared the rations.

"Granduc, remove your armour," Chama ordered as soon as the camp was set, "so I can get a look at your wounds."

Aribeth watched a worried Chama hovering above an exhausted Valen, who pulled at his armour's buckles with trembling hands. The paladin rolled her eyes and decided, again, to leave them alone for a while. Feeling jealous, she thought forlornly it was becoming a habit.

"I'll stand guard outside," she announced. "I'll give a turn of guard to one of you in a few hours."

Chama nodded distractedly and helped Valen out of his chainmail. Her hands trembled when she cleaned Valen's wounds, used magical herbs to cleanse the poison from his blood, and bandaged him to stop the bleeding.

When she was done, Valen slumped in relaxation, exhausted and blessedly free of pain and illness. He was about to blissfully blank out when a small hand slid lightly on his shoulder and chest, carefully avoiding his wounds. His fatigue instantly disappeared and he opened cobalt blue eyes to look at Chama.

"Valen."

"Yes," he answered, his eyes darkening further at the invitation in her gaze.

"You said yourself that we could meet our end at any time now. I do feel better knowing we love each other, but I would like to… to be held by you, not by your armour, for once in my life if I am to cease to exist soon."

Sliding lower, Valen laid his back on the cold floor and extended his hand. Chama took it and hesitantly got down next to him, lying close. He slowly drew her against him and she shifted closer, until she cuddled against his side, her head on his shoulder. He rounded her shoulders with his right arm, and rested his left hand on her hip.

Both breathed fast as the silence stretched.

"I love you," they said at exactly the same time.

Valen smiled and closed his eyes. Chama, less experienced with embraces, searched for a place where to put down her arm, but fresh bandages occupied every seemingly comfortable spot. Suddenly she realized her whole weight rested on his side, which _was_ hurt. She turned to lift her weight off him.

"I'm sorry. I must be hurting you…"

"No, you're not," he replied, tightening his arms around her. Slowly she relaxed and her weight settled against his ribs again.

"It's good to be held by you," she whispered.

Valen silently tightened his grip on her shoulders and kissed the top of her head. He was not aware of it, but she was still surveying the extent of his wounds, and the guilt in her voice was unexpected when she spoke up again.

"I'm sorry I brought you here, Valen."

Even though she resisted for a while, he managed to make her lift her eyes up to his.

"Don't be sorry," he pleaded. "I was dead, and now I am given a second chance to live. And moreover, a chance with you. Aribeth is away… Chama, my lady… can I be so bold as to request a kiss?"

An amused smile rewarded him for his formal request. Turning slightly, she rested more squarely on his chest, and kissed him lightly on the lips. A small dreamy smile floated on her lips when she pulled away. Briefly Valen wondered if he was allowed to kiss her more intensely, but decided he had received her silent permission when she had kissed him. She shivered and her eyes widened when he sensually ran his hand up her back and buried his fingers in her hair. Her black tresses were wet because of the snow and cold, but silky and delicious to the touch for his rough hands. He gently pressed the middle of her back with his free hand. Her eyes were open wide as though from surprise, but she yielded without resistance when he gently pulled her head down. She closed her eyes a second before their lips touched. Valen kissed her, slowly at first, then more and more passionately as her body relaxed and melted against him.

_Not too much too fast_, he reminded himself forcefully. Gradually he slowed down and pulled away. It took her a long while before she opened stunned eyes to look up at him. He smiled tenderly, but he felt shaken to the core by the tenderness and passion a single embrace had fired within him.

"I've never been kissed like this before," she admitted quietly, blushing.

Valen caressed her silky hair and kissed her forehead. "I've never kissed anyone the way I just kissed you. It must have something to do with being in love."

She gazed at him curiously, and hesitated a while before she spoke. "You have never been in love before?"

He blushed and looked away. "Yes, once." He paused and explained reluctantly, "But we could never be close. She died."

"I'm sorry."

"She was a mortal servant of Grimash't. When I was being tortured, my master brought her before me and… and he killed her. It was meant to cause me pain and it did."

"I can imagine. I'm really sorry."

Valen closed his eyes a brief moment. "Thank you, my lady. It is… not easy to discuss her, even now. But that was a long time ago. Now, if we could change the subject, my lady?"

"Why do your eyes change colour?", she asked then, snuggling closer into his side. "I think the red means anger, and I can imagine what the darker, silvery blue means."

He chuckled. "It means that I find you very attractive and would like to see more of you… when the time is right, of course."

"You really think I'm beautiful?", she asked in a small voice.

He chuckled again. "Not only do I _think_ you're beautiful, you _are_ beautiful."

She blushed prettily. "I can almost believe you." She stared at him timidly and suddenly laughed. "Especially since your eyes are turning silvery again."

He smiled mischievously. "I would look at you with those eyes for as long as necessary to convince you, but I would rather not be seen by Aribeth like this. Those eyes are only for you."

He sat up and started pulling his clothes back on. She wondered aloud, "Can't you control the colour of your eyes?"

"More or less. The easiest way to control the colour is to change my state of mind and think of something else. As long as I am in a particular state of mind, it's hard to keep my eyes from shifting in that direction."

She nodded and helped him to pull his tunic on when his wounds made him stiff.

"No middle watch for you tonight, Granduc," she declared. "You'll get the last watch."

"But your spells…", he started.

"Let me worry about them."

With gentle authority, she pushed him down on his bedroll and tucked him in. He smiled, amused. "You would make a good nurse, my love. You have the pragmatic sense to use a healing kit to its full potential and you possess the unyielding command to tame rebellious patients."

She shook her head and looked at him with great pain in her eyes.

"I really was afraid for a moment. If you had not been a planar, I don't think I could have raised you on this plane…"

She trailed off, her eyes taking a haunted cast. _To think I would ever worry so for a male._

"I am fine, my love."

"Valen, I wanted to tell you… Even if I'm no battle strategist, I think you knew the minotaur would get a chance to hit at you like that when you struck at Grim."

Immediately Valen noted the shortened nickname. Unpleasant realization twisted his stomach into knots.

"You had adventured with Grimgnaw in Neverwinter."

"Yes," she confirmed.

Valen looked away and squirmed uncomfortably. "I'm sorry you had to battle an old friend and see him die. If I had known, I might have tried to make his death less… less aesthetically disturbing."

"We were not friends," she declared darkly. "We fought together because neither of us could survive without the other's skills. He fell when we faced Morag and he could not be raised, because he had died in the Source Stone, which was an outside domain. I did not think of him again until I met Daelan and friends at the Yawning Portal in Waterdeep, and realized Grim wasn't there. But, in all honesty, I was not really sad not to see him. We would not have had anything to say to each other."

"I understand."

She did not allow his question to distract her from her previous inquiry. "Did you know the minotaur would slash at you like that if you hit Grim?"

Valen nodded silently.

"You knew you would die?"

Valen hesitated. "It was not certain."

"You must have evaluated your chances."

Her unwavering gaze eventually forced the answer out of him. "Slim," he admitted at length. "But your chances and Aribeth's were higher in this way."

She slid next to him on the floor to hug him again, circling her arms over the sheets of his bedroll.

"Valen Shadowbreath, listen to me. In that cold calculation of yours, when you chose to throw your life away, you forgot one thing. _I love you._ And even though I am ashamed to admit it, I need you. There is a part of my past you are unaware of, and I'd prefer if you knew, but tonight's not the time. You need to rest. Suffice it to say that, because of my past, I am unsure how to react regarding my own feelings. When you died, Valen, the only one I could ever love, in all my life, was gone. It drove me back to evil and vengeance, which governed me until not so long ago. The temptation to embrace it and let it drive me insane was strong… My chances would not have been good without you."

Valen squirmed until he freed a hand from his bedroll, and slowly and gently he dried the tears on her face with his rough fingers.

"I'm… I'm grateful that you have the honour and courage to die for us in battle. But _please_, Valen, don't die again."

He chuckled and drew her against his chest. "I have no intention to, my love."

She wiped her nose and straightened, hastily drying her face. "You need to rest now, Granduc. The adventure isn't over yet. We still need to get out of Hell."

He grinned mischievously. "I'm certain I would rest better if you would offer me comfort until I sleep, to reassure me from my most disturbing passing from this world."

Lightly she sat next to him and took his hand in hers. "You had better fall asleep quickly, because I have to discuss guards with Aribeth. Off to sleep with you now."

Chuckling, he obediently relaxed and waited for sleep. In his state of bodily weakness, exhaustion consumed him in less than a minute.

ooooo

He awoke to the sound of Chama moaning. He jerked in his bedroll, causing the wound on his side to reopen painfully, and a dozen other scratches to suddenly wake up and make him suffer. Aribeth had turned from where she stood guard but, seeing that nothing graver than a bad dream was happening, she turned back to watch out for any threat.

Valen dragged himself and his dozen pains to Chama's side and reached out a hand to keep her from tossing.

"No, not Gaulthery!" she screamed out.

At Valen's touch, she awoke immediately, her face covered in sweat and her eyes wild.

"Easy, Chama, it was only a nightmare."

She collapsed back down on her bedroll and brought her hands up to cover her eyes. Below her hands, Valen could see her mouth twisting while she cried. Valen's body hurt too much to lift her up to hug her, so he just sat next to her. For a few minutes she cried silently and he rubbed her shoulder gently. Finally, she took a shaking breath and uncovered her face. She slowly wiped her eyes.

"Who's Gaulthery?", he asked gently, still rubbing her shoulder.

She hesitated. "The first male I killed."

Valen was taken aback for a second. He berated himself when she turned away, hurt and rejection obvious on her face; she had seen it in his eyes. Her mirror had betrayed her this time.

"You still regret his death, I see," he said, trying to mend the widening gap between them. "Do you… do you wish to speak about it?"

"No," she breathed.

Valen hesitated a while, and finally began, "Chama…"

"I know, Granduc."

The tiefling swirled in confusion for a moment. "Know what?"

"I know that I should trust you and that we should tell each other everything if this love story is ever to work out."

Her coldness distressed him. "But that's not…", he tried, but was cut again.

"Valen, please. It's a painful story, and a long one. I don't want to speak about this now. Not here in a cold bedroll, with you white as a ghost because of the blood loss, with Aribeth just over there, and trolls that can ambush us at any time. I… I will tell you, but not now. Please don't push me."

"Chama, I assure you I don't wish to pry. I just wanted to remind you that I'm here."

She nodded, and then sat up in her bedroll. After such a troubling dream, she did not really feel like going to sleep again.

"It must be around time for me to take a watch anyway… You should go back to sleep if you're ever to recover from your wounds."

She went to replace Aribeth and Valen settled back in his blankets. His wounds dragged him down into sleep like a thousand stones tied to his feet. He did not remember his dreams.


	30. The Secret Unravelled

_The long awaited revelation! (On schedule, too!) And sorry about the strange place to end the chapter, it was the best I could do._

Chapter XXIX. The secret unravelled

Following the red arrows of the Sleeping Man's ring, they crossed an underground complex inhabited by winged tieflings, where they encountered Mephistopheles' next guardian. The massive balor had been charged by the Lord of the Eighth to guard against those who sought the Knower of Names.

Despite its ancient power, the devil fell to Chama's spells, Aribeth's sword and Valen's flail, and his death opened a portal to the hidden retreat of the Knower of Places. Chama, Aribeth and Valen stepped on the glowing ring on the floor, and the runes' magic transported them to a strange room filled with flying objects of diverse natures.

It reminded Valen of the nexus of the Reaper's Realm, and his planar senses picked up various intersections crisscrossing the room in a chaos of meeting places and fleeting presences. He turned to the Knower of Places; she had been settled in the middle of her realm, but took off as they came in. A truly strange creature, she combined butterfly wings and a coquettish, human head. A strange and elegant beauty was about her, but Valen turned to Chama then. Smiling gently, he forgot anything about the baatorian's attractiveness.

Chama asked the Knower of Places where her sister was imprisoned, and the creature modified the Sleeping Man's ring to guide her to the Knower of Names, now. Near the audience's end, Chama made a request.

"We have been wandering the ice for many days. We require a rest. Since this place appears to be linked to many others, I would ask if you can take us back to the City of Lost Souls. Could we reach the Knower of Names from there, following the ring's directions?"

"Yes, it is possible. If you take this astral door to your left," the Knower gestured and a door materialized, "it will take you back to the Gates of Cania. You can then come back to my realm through it. This other door," she pointed to a grand archway at the opposite end of the room, "will lead you to the wasted lands where Mephistopheles imprisoned my sister."

Chama bowed. "Thank you, Knower."

Through the Knower's door, they stepped right up to the entrance of the Hellbreath tavern. With immense relief they went in, rent rooms, and ordered baths. Chama slid blissfully into the hot water – of course, the tavern did not offer heated water as a basic service, but her minimized fireball had taken care of that slight problem. She washed, then did her laundry, then cleaned her weapons, and then paced restlessly in her room for long minutes, trying to work up some nerve.

She reminded herself how many times she had felt as though she betrayed Valen because she had not told him everything. Acknowledging her fear of rejection when he would learn the whole story, she tried to reassure herself by thinking about his own troubled past. Surely he could forgive past mistakes. Many days had already passed since he had first told her that he loved her; many days since she had told him there was a part of her past he needed to know. Being very understanding, he had not inquired, but she had felt his curious eyes on her sometimes.

At the mere idea of evoking those memories again, Chama's hands shook and covered in cold sweat. But Valen deserved to know… she could not hide this from him any longer.

ooooo

After his bath, a shirtless Valen examined what was left of his wounds, and made sure the healing was well underway. A timid knock sounded on his door.

"Just a moment!", he requested, pulling his linen tunic back on and opening the door.

Chama stood there, blushing and looking uncertain. Seeing her surprised Valen; he had expected her to collapse from exhaustion as soon as she was done with her bath. Also, seeing her without her circlet provided a welcome change. Her hair, already dry by ways of some magical trick, fell lightly on each side of her face. Valen had seen her unequipped and with her hair down only once before: her first night in Lith My'athar. It felt like an eternity had passed since then. He stood there motionless for a second, drinking in the sight of her delicate cheekbones and pointed chin, her long chocolate hair, and the harmony of her elven traits. And then he remembered himself.

"Chama… come in!"

She stepped forward hesitantly and, while he closed the door, she walked to the middle of the room and stopped.

"My lady, are you all right?", he asked with concern.

"No," she answered bluntly.

In two quick strides, Valen was besides her, a hand on her shoulder and another under her chin to force her eyes up to meet his.

"What is wrong, my lady? Please, tell me."

She closed her eyes and paled quickly. Concerned that she might faint, he guided her towards the bed and sat her down. His heart wrenching from concern, he wanted to hug her but, before he could move, she suddenly spoke.

"I know your demon, Valen, and it's unfair to let you believe you love me any longer if you don't know mine. So I will tell you."

"Wait, my love… I don't merely _believe_ that I love you, I do."

"Maybe you should hold that thought until the end of my story," she retorted bitterly.

Taking her hand up to his lips, Valen shook his head and sat besides her. He stared at her for a long moment, with an absolute confidence in his eyes that nothing she could say would alter his feelings for her.

"I am listening," he declared quietly at last.

Freeing her hand slowly, she looked away. She cleared her throat and began her tale.

"It happened when I was very young. I was four decades-old – forty-two years-old to be exact – and I still lived with my parents. We inhabited a small village near the edge of the forest. Back then, I was training to become a hunter like my father, so I often wandered off into the woods on my own, to learn the paths, the plants and the animals."

She took a breath.

"And then, that summer, one day like any other, it started raining. It was nothing more than a drizzle, so I kept running in the forest and played with the snails and frogs that showed themselves. Eventually I grew cold, but I was far from home, so I decided to take refuge in a small cave I knew. I was laughing when I reached it, because I had just seen a grumpy crow with its feathers all wet. He had reminded me of my own hair plastered to my head.

"The cave was not unoccupied.

"A group of men – human men, I mean – hid in the dark, and I had already passed their guard when I saw them. They were tall, big, heavy, dirty and they wore beards. It was the first time I had ever seen humans. For a moment, I was frozen in fascination of their shaggy and unfamiliar appearance, but then some sense returned to me. I realized I should have been afraid of their ugly smiles and the bloodied weapons they carried.

"I whirled around, ready to run, only to bump into the guard. He seized my arm and threw me into the cave. By then I was terrified. I told them to let me go. Actually, I rather _begged_ than _told_ them. But they just laughed, with their raucous voices and rotten teeth. Seizing my courage, I unsheathed my hunting knife and they all laughed again. I launched myself at the guard with all my determination. He blocked with his hand against the flat of my blade – I barely scratched his skin – and slapped me in the face so hard that I flew back and landed badly, spraining my right wrist; it was the side of my wielding hand. He called me a bitch and said he would _have_ me first for drawing his blood.

"Then another man stepped out of the shadows. He was so ordinary. Medium height, brown hair, the same leather armour and short sword as the others. But there was something… something _missing_ in his eyes. They were cold and remote, like the eyes of a dead creature. No humanity left in them. He said I was _his,_ first, and the guard stepped down.

"He pulled me to my feet by my sprained wrist. I cried out and he said a bit of pain would show me how to behave. He backhanded me across the face, and I fell again. I remember being dizzy from fear and from the blow. He looked down at me as he would have some kind of experiment. He was testing my resistance.

"He beat me. He beat me until I cried and begged him to stop, and then he beat me again until I was almost unconscious. Then he threw cold water in my face to wake me up. I startled and tried to scramble to my feet, but he punched me back down. He tore my clothes off, hitting me when I tried to squirm, while the others laughed and screamed encouragements. One said I was scrawny. But the leader, _he_ smirked and asked the others if they wanted to hold a bet about whether or not I could… accommodate him."

She closed her eyes. Valen could see where this was going and he was seething inside, but he did not interrupt her. She went on after a painful pause.

"I was a bit naïve maybe, but I had never… so I didn't understand right away what he meant. But it quickly became clear when he… when he… Oh, Valen, it felt like he was tearing me, all of me, apart. My body, certainly, but my heart and mind and sanity too. I screamed."

Valen listened silently, all colour drained from his face and his fists clenched painfully. He wished, with a violence he had never experienced before, that he could return back in time to that fateful rainy day and slaughter all those pigs with his bare hands.

Chama, quite pale herself, did not pause to comment on his lack of colour. In the dim light of the room, the candles cast long shadows on her ashen face, accentuating the haunted and painful look on her face. Valen wondered if he could do anything at all to ease her pain at the moment; it seemed that such horrors did not bear the telling while he touched her in any way. So he merely sat next to her, his hands aching for the feel of a throat. He had no difficulty at all to keep his eyes clear and blue for her. The demon, faced with the horror and fury of the man, had no place at all in his heart now.

"I screamed and screamed until he gagged me with his hand and I could not breathe anymore. I think I lost consciousness or I fled into madness. When I came back to myself, he was getting off me, and I was so… so…" She shrugged and gave up trying to find a word to describe her state of mind. "…that I could not move. And then the guard took his turn.

"They all did. At some point it stopped to matter and I lay there, limp, blanking out, until the last one of them was done. Then the leader, _he_ beat me again, with his booted feet smelling of cow and his bloodied knife, and they left, in the rain that had stopped.

"I think it took me an hour to gather the consciousness necessary to turn on the side and roll into a ball. I was still there when my father and another hunter found me. My proud father cried while he tried putting his cape around me and lifting me off the ground, but I only pushed him back weakly."

She seemed to slip out of the memories back to the present then, her eyes focusing on Valen, full of pain.

"I don't think you can understand what I felt. I had been training for two decades to become a hunter, but it was suddenly very clear that I was way too weak to ever be a good ranger. I had been beaten and pinned to the ground effortlessly by these men. I felt betrayed by my weak body. I so hated my body after that. It became like a second entity within me, one that I loathed and despised and was limited by, that was weak, unreliable, and ugly."

Valen could not help it anymore. He spoke, letting out a bit of anger. "Men like this make me yearn to visit the Abyss again just to make them pay as they deserve."

She closed her eyes again. "The tragedy is not over yet. I bore a child."

That startled Valen.

"I was forced to keep the bed for most of the pregnancy. My mother – she was a priestess of Corellon – and her colleagues worked day and night for weeks to ensure I would survive. And even after the worst was over, my life was not safe yet. It took me months to heal enough to stand on my own… This is the sickness I spoke to you of the other night.

"But you have to understand something of my state of mind to realize why the process was so lengthy. I did not fight for my life. I would have been content to forget everything, drift away and just die. I barely remember anything of all this time. I remember my mother throwing fits, shaking her healing staff and yelling at me that staring at the ceiling with vacant eyes would not bring me back among the living. Many times.

"But my mind refused to face what had been done to me. I believe it is only by virtue of my mother's force of will that I finally healed. She was so very strong. One day she dragged me out of bed to the other side of the room and let me there. She knew I wanted to lie down, so she forced me to make my way back to my bed. I did it, slowly, sluggishly and without will. Then my mother sat me up in my bed and looked me in the eye.

"I clearly remember that moment. She shook something inside of me with her intense stare. She almost woke me up from my apathy. Almost.

"That is when she told me I was pregnant. I shrugged. She said I would have to care for my child if I could not care for myself. I did not react. She stormed off.

"The months went by in this manner. I almost died a second time in childbirth, but my mother would not let me. She poured so much of herself in her healing magic that, once the child was born, she did not come to see me for a month. I had to keep the bed again. It is my father who took care of the child.

"When my mother came to see me again, she frightened me. She had lost weight and was pale and slim as a ghost. She could not call upon her healing magic anymore. That day I woke up, when I realized my mother was dying of grief like some elven princess of children's fairy tales.

"When the apathy washed off, the first emotion I experienced was fear. I was terrified. I don't know of what exactly; of the men in the cave, of my injuries, of time flying by, of the child I had given birth to, of what people must have thought of me and my half-breed offspring, of my mother who was slowly wasting away because she had taken my pain on her shoulders.

"She died that night. I realized she would never see me woken up from my apathy. Something snapped inside of me; something broke. I started to fight to heal. Angrily, furiously, ragingly. My father came to show me the child. I cared nothing for either of them.

"When I was healed, I went back to my father's house. He showed me how to care for the child. I was not very good at it. When I looked at him, I could only think that he was from that bandit, and that my mother had killed herself so he could live. I hated myself, and I hated the child, even if he was only a baby, and nothing was his fault. I _needed_ to hate; if I was not hateful and angry at something, pain and despair would have drowned me into oblivion and madness."

"You were not insane, my love," Valen protested gently, "you were injured. You were hurt and afraid and you were lost because of your mother's death. What… what was the child's name?"

She hesitated slightly. "His name was Gaulthery Indiwasi, a half-elven son for the House of the Sun."

This time, Valen remained carefully still, even if he remembered the name from the other night's nightmare. A feeling of cold dread in the pit of his stomach, he waited for the rest of the story. She had killed her own child? For the first time, he doubted his love for her, but he held his doubts in check until he would hear the end of the story. He owed her that much.

Trying not to speculate about what he must be thinking at that moment, she resumed her tale.

"I would not care well for the child, so my father did. He kept his even demeanour, cared for the child and for me, without a word of complaint. I was angry, jumpy, snappy, grumpy, and yet my father cared for me. And this was a man whose daughter had almost been beaten to death and whose wife had just died. Seeing how my parents reacted to pain, I always wondered why I was too weak to cope sanely with what happened.

"Gaulthery…" She closed her eyes again. "One day my father went out a few hours to fulfil his duty as a hunter and guard of the village. I was not watching Gaulthery very well. He… he fell from the table. He did not cry."

Valen's eyes widened against his will. This was how Gaulthery had died? This accident, this mere negligence caused by unfathomable pain, she interpreted it as a murder? He wanted to hug her then, to console her and dissuade her of that notion, but she was absorbed by her story and was going on feverishly.

"I almost snapped out of it then. I could not touch him. I could not come closer as he lay there on the floor, not moving. I went to the temple and a priestess came. She made me wait outside and my father arrived. Before he could ask, the priestess was back out, with Gaulthery under a white veil. Her face was so hard. She said bluntly that he was dead and could not be raised.

"I told my father that Gaulthery fell. My father stared at me with infinite sadness. No doubt, no anger, no pity, no disgust. Just love, pain and sadness. I could not bear this stare. I hated myself; I could not bear someone looking at me with love.

"I fled. He let me run away, probably thinking I needed to be alone but would soon come back. But I didn't. Once out of the village, I realized I could not live there anymore.

"The downward spiral began. I had no dignity left, so there was little I was not ready to do, and after I killed my own child, there were preciously few things for which I would feel guilt. I had no equipment, no provisions, and no money when I left. I survived off the land while in the forest, but once in a human city, things were different. I started to steal. Food at first, then purses. I was always broke so I lived in the poorer inns and districts. Eventually I ended up seized by a local thief guild because I was operating on claimed territory. I enrolled. I began to steal from houses, wealthier and wealthier as I was proving successful. One day a guard caught me. I killed him with one sneak attack, ripping his throat open so he made no noise. I felt no guilt over this man's death.

"On the contrary.

"Here begins the truly sinister part of my story. It was an awakening. My weak and despicable body did not keep me from doing this. For the first time in years, I did not feel dirty, worthless or sullied. I. Was. Powerful.

"I. Was. A force. To be. Reckoned with.

"Killing was my new ecstasy. Males especially. I enjoyed the fact that their greater strength achieved nothing against my invisible blade. The guild master was pleased with me and wanted me trained as an assassin. I asked to be trained a mage instead, because it was the weakest men, the wizards, that were harder to kill, with their contingencies and stoneskins.

"I was trained a mage. And one day, I saw _him_. The leader of that group of men in the cave. A member of my own guild for ten years, I learned. We were introduced when I was moved into his unit of house breakers, but he did not even recognize me."

Valen listened silently, knowing what would come. After all, when Grimash't had come after him, he had never hesitated about his course of action. He had killed his former master and, just like Chama had described, he had felt powerful when he had finally freed himself from Grimash't's prospect. He knew the man Chama spoke of had died.

"I tracked him and observed him for months. I mapped his usual moves. I visited the places he went to often. I tailed him as I would have a house patron I wanted to rob.

"When I was ready, I moved unto him when he was alone in one of his regular back alleys. I stunned him with a spell, gagged him, tied him and put him on my familiar's back – I travelled with a hell hound at the time. I moved him to his own house."

An unpleasant silence followed. Chama looked up to Valen's clear eyes for encouragement. He still listened calmly.

"What I did to him there… I will not tell you the details. It was necessary to keep him under a silence spell. I reminded him of what he had done to me. I emasculated him and I killed him. Slowly.

"I don't think you can understand what I felt. When _you_ lose control, the demon takes over and he revels in violence. It is only afterwards that you see what you have done and are ashamed.

"It was not like that for me. I was confused between my vengeful joy and my shame. He was paying for what he had done to me. That was vengeful joy. But for the horrors I visited on him, I was disgusted and ashamed and I hated myself for it, even as I did it.

"He died. I took over my familiar's body to scorch and gnaw at his dead carcass, to ensure he would never be raised. I fled again, further north. Away from my past in an attempt to flee myself.

"The thirty next decades followed like that. I would hire as a mercenary or act as a freelancer thief in small cities. I never stayed in large cities for long, because I never enrolled in a thief guild again and it's hard to stay unnoticed or to survive if you have angered them.

"I occasionally thought back on the elves or my family. But each time, _his_ face returned to my mind. I kept my violent lifestyle to forget. To make the world pay."

There was a slight drop in the tension in Chama's shoulders, and Valen reached out and took her hand. She made no attempt to move into his embrace, so he caressed the back of her hand with his thumb for a while. She was panting as though she had just run across half of Cania, but slowly she calmed.


	31. How to build an ordinary life

_Sorry if I'm late, I've been away last weekend for an owl inventory. It was nice, actually, even if a bit cold (it was 3C at midnight, out there…). Unfortunately I didn't hear or see any owl, but I did hear and see plenty of American woodcocks, which I'd never seen or heard before. So it was nice. With the almost full moon, it would have been the perfect movie-like night if we'd heard a great-horned owl…_

Chapter XXX. How to build an ordinary life

While Chama caught her breath, Valen took in everything she had said. Caressing the back of her hand gently, he attempted to steer her mind towards happier things.

"What made you change your way of life?", he asked gently.

"A good and a bad example. The good example was Aarin Gend, Neverwinter's master of spies. I met him while searching for Morag's cult north of Neverwinter. At that moment, I had nothing more lucrative to do than to lend my magic to that cause. Aarin, even though he has been a pirate, is now an honoured citizen of Neverwinter. Of course, I mocked him at first, but as time went by I came to admire and envy him a bit. But even his influence, alone, would not have been enough to change me.

"It is the bad example that set me back on track: Morag, Queen of the Old Ones. She sought to take control of all the lesser races. I found myself embroiled in the evil she wrought: the slaughter of the students of Neverwinter's Academy, the countless losses to the Wailing Death's, the consumption of souls by the thousands, Nasher ordering Fenthick's execution and precipitating Aribeth's betrayal, Morag's willingness to destroy the whole North, the cloak of despair she wove over Neverwinter.

"When Morag died, I stood over her body, and something happened to me. The Source Stone – her planar refuge where I faced her – was beginning to collapse, without her power to sustain it. To me, it felt as though the world itself was coming down on my head. I remember thinking, _I am powerful now_; I could not merely be a cutthroat anymore. After I had saved Toril from the Old Ones, people would know my name. I would never be an anonymous thug roaming the streets again. I had the power to impose my will, but no grand goal to spurn me to do so.

"I did not have the world-dominating ambition of Morag, or Heurodis, or the Valsharess, or Mephistopheles. I was nothing more than a vulgar thug. I realized, then, that I was who I was to flee myself and my past. I faced myself then. Something had pushed me off-kilter. I was not in the same _league_ as Morag. I was evil by cowardice, weakness and pettiness, not by madness, corruption, will or ambition.

"I felt lost. I did not know what to do once I was back in Neverwinter.

"Aarin… Aarin was an angel to me. He disregarded how I had toyed with him – did I mention he was attracted to me at first? And I played with his feelings for a while; it was flattering and I rather liked the idea of a male being helpless before my charm. But it is not in Aarin's nature to easily get down on his knees to beg for a woman's affections, so I eventually tired of him. Now I'm glad he had his defences and didn't let me hurt him too much.

"The night after I defeated Morag, when I came back onto the world of Toril, I was confused and alone. I was lost and afraid by my realization and the change I wanted to undergo. Most of all, I had no idea where to begin. All I knew how to do was steal, make my way in the seediest districts of a city, find people who would have contracts for one such as me, and kill. The world in which most of ordinary people live was totally alien to me, and I did not even know by which door enter it. I could not stand the idea of going back to the dirty inn I had a room at. I could not bear the thought of being left alone. And I had no friend to stay up with me and tell me I'd do fine.

"Aarin waited until Nasher was done with his uninspired discourse about me saving his precious city. He let the Neverwinter guard congratulate me with cautious words. He waited until we were almost alone, and then he asked me if I would like a cup of tea.

"I had no idea what else to do, so I clung to this one person who seemed to understand I needed company. He brought me to his house. When the door closed behind us, it was like everything I had held back for centuries was suddenly free, because the first door on my new path was closed behind me. I tried to control myself; I told myself I would not cry in front of Aarin. That I would show no weakness. But I was shaking, and after a few minutes Aarin stopped in the middle of the tour of his house and very gently asked me what was wrong. I burst into tears.

"I don't know how he understood me, but he seemed to know on instinct that I couldn't bear anyone's touch. And staying there while I cried would have been awkward to say the least. He told me it was all right and he understood. He said I could sit in the living room while he prepared the tea.

"He sang as he moved about in the kitchen. He had a beautiful voice, and he sung something I did not understand in his native language of Chult. It was the nicest and most soothing thing anyone had ever done to me since… since my parents hugged me as a child.

"When he came back with the tea, I was feeling a thousand pounds less. He stayed up with me late in the night, showing me bits of his tongue and songs to keep my mind off everything. I slept on his couch.

"The next morning, he arranged for a caravan to take me up the road north of Neverwinter, and two tendays later, I was in Hilltop and meeting Drogan, an old friend of Aarin."

Her sudden smile told how much she had loved her former master.

"Drogan turned out to be much like a second father to me. He took me in, not asking one question about the reason of my presence – I was already advanced in the magical arts beyond the usual scope of his school. He took me shopping for ordinary clothes; he had me healed by the local temple; he forced me to make friends of his other apprentices; and day after day he won me over. I never told him everything, but he seemed to understand. One day, though, he inquired about my family, and I told him only my father survived – last I had heard of him, thirty decades ago. Even though it took Drogan weeks, he convinced me to write to my father. I… have not received an answer." It obviously saddened and disappointed her. "I guess I should not have expected otherwise, after fleeing like that."

"You have been travelling a lot during your adventures," Valen pointed out. "It is possible you have kept moving ahead of a letter sent to you."

She smiled wanly. "That's nice of you to say, even if it seems improbable. I… I have never told this… the whole of it… to anyone, Valen."

"I know. It is not an easy past to bear, and I understand that it can be even harder to share."

Exhausted by her tale, she closed her eyes. She wanted him to hold her, but she had been withholding this story from him for so long that she expected him to either be disgusted by who she was or feel betrayed by her lack of trust. So she could not bring herself to ask him to hold her, because it would feel like forcing him to.

But someone with a past as heavy as hers understood only too well.

"I hope I never made you feel forced to do something you did not desire," he said, frowning worriedly.

Her eyes snapped up to his and she shook her head. "Never, Valen. You're the only one I trusted to hold me or kiss me since. I didn't think I could ever come to like it, but in fact it's very good to have finally found someone I want to hold me." She stopped speaking then, because speaking of him hugging her while she needed it so badly was very painful.

"I will try not to presume too much in the future," he said lightly. "So I will ask: can I hold you now, my love? It breaks my heart to see you apparently in need of comfort."

The slightest flick of her hand was the only signal he was waiting for; he took her in his arms at her merest move in his direction. Sending propriety to the hells, he pulled her in his lap to be more comfortable. She nestled against his chest, her head on his shoulder, and he held her tightly. She trembled as if of cold, but he knew it was the shock of the memories and the worry about his reaction. He caressed her hair until she stopped shaking and relaxed.

"My love," he murmured then.

Hearing those little two words, even after she had told him everything, made her sob a few times.

"Yes, Granduc?"

"I am honoured by the trust you have shown me by telling me all this. I also wanted to tell you that it takes great courage to open your heart like that to someone else. I wish to reassure you that I love you all the same and even more, because I know you have had the strength to overcome what has been done to you."

She stiffened. "It took me rather too long."

"No, my love," he whispered, tightening his arms around her. "Many would have kept to the path of evil all their lives. I see you carrying enough guilt as it is; you can be proud for straying from the destiny that seemed to lie all traced before you."

She started crying then, a long litany of liberating sobs that allowed her to let go of part of her painful past.

A few moments later, Valen felt her sag against his chest, drifting off to sleep from exhaustion. He wanted nothing more than to lie down next to her for the night, but he hesitated; maybe she needed some time alone to make her own peace with the conjured memories. He knew he had often felt a need for solitude after the Seer had managed to make him spit out a big pain from his past. He was wondering what to do when suddenly Chama stirred, fighting off sleepiness.

He caressed her hair and kissed her forehead.

"My love, what do you wish now? I would be glad to sleep next to you and try to hold the nightmares at bay, but if you wish me to, I will take you back to your room."

"Valen… please take me back to my room."

"Don't worry, I will, Chama. Sleep. Let me carry you."

Trustfully she fell back against his shoulder and put her arms around his neck, and he gently lifted her to carry her back to her room. He opened his door after some struggle, but did not have the same trouble with Chama's door, because a gith pilgrim opened it for him. Seeming not to wonder or even notice that Valen was carrying Chama to her room so late at night, the githzerai gave them a sympathetic smile. The story of Chama's betrayal by Mephistopheles and her attempt at stopping him on the Prime had spread quickly in the City of Lost Souls. The devils reacted indifferently or with minor hostility, but the damned souls and the gith pilgrims generally approved of her. Hence the kind help from the gith to open the door.

Valen gently laid Chama down on her bed and tucked her in, and then he spread both their capes over her. Half-asleep already, she hungrily rolled into the covers and the capes up to the ears. Smiling amusedly, Valen caressed the hair at the top of her head – the only spot left visible – and bent to kiss her forehead.

"Sleep well, my love."

"You too, Granduc," she murmured. "And… and thank you, for tonight."

"It's nothing, Chama. Now sleep."

ooooo

Once back in his room, Valen sat on his bed and distractedly began to disrobe for the night. _So this is the dark past she has kept to herself for so long. What a terrible secret._ His anger flared again at the memory of the one act that had set her on that long, tortuous and painful path.

Angrily he started pacing back and forth. He hoped those who had done this to her were in the Eight Hell and that their souls had been erased from existence by Mephistopheles. Better yet, he hoped they were in the Ninth, in a very safe place where their souls would be tortured forever. Or even better yet, in the Abyss where demons knew how to torture better than devils. Hell's devils harassed; the Abyss' demons truly tortured.

Once his mind had satisfactorily exhausted all imaginable tortures that such men deserved, Valen could finally drive his demon half away. The strong call of the Blood Wars tugging at him constantly kept it close to the surface.

So he turned his thoughts back to Chama. He felt great sadness for all the trials she had been subjected too. He winced when he remembered how carelessly he had spoken about children with her; if he had known, he would have chosen his words much more carefully.

And suddenly he marvelled. Despite everything, she had found it in herself to love him. To kiss him. To let him hold her. More than that, to enjoy his presence and his touch. He had noticed her widened eyes and timid responses, but he had thought it nothing more than a first love's timidity, however strange and unlikely that had seemed considering her age. He would not make that mistake again. However, he had to strike a delicate balance; if he proved too insistent, she would feel pressured, but if he acted too distant, she would imagine she was undesired. For a while, she had hated her body and thought it was ugly and weak; he would have to be careful not to fuel that faulty perception.

The responsibility fell on him now to ensure her first experience of love did not turn into another trauma to add to the already long list of the terrible hardships of her life.

_I love you, Chama. I will keep you safe and cherish you,_ he vowed silently, and he fell asleep.

ooooo

The next morning, Valen and Aribeth sat in a corner of the Hellbreath tavern, waiting for Chama who slept late. Aribeth carefully avoided any questions, because Valen looked unusually grave. When finally the elf emerged from her room, she hesitantly looked from one to the other.

"I slept without my circlet again," she announced.

"It shouldn't be a problem," Aribeth shrugged. "The way to the Knower of Names seems clear and straightforward."

Foreseeing the possibility of some second-doubts, Valen took a step towards Chama and took her in his arms, making Aribeth turned away with an exasperated sigh. Despite how much Valen wanted to hold Chama tight, he tried not to crush her against the cold steel of his armour.

"Don't worry," he whispered. "We'll find a way out of here today."

Sighing, Chama luxuriated in the tiefling's strong embrace, even though it would have been better without the chainmail between them. And she fully appreciated that his acceptance of her past had not vanished like misty dreams in the light of morning.


	32. Demon Blood

_I put in some serious effort and managed to post another chapter before going off to Ontario for birding… pats herself on the back Unfortunately, that will be the last update in a while. Please leave me reviews for when I'll be back :)_

Chapter XXXI. Demon blood resurfaces

_FIGHT!_

Valen stopped dead in his tracks, taking in the sight of the familiar battlefield, demon pitched against devil in a battle to the death.

_Defend your blood! Fight for your kin! Kill! Destroy! You are the strongest here! Bring CHAOS!_

His demon half threw a fit inside of himself, writhing and kicking and clawing at his soul with red-hot rage and searing lust for blood. Valen reeled before the engagement happening before his eyes. He _wished _to fight. He _wanted_ to destroy. He _craved _for chaos.

_Yes! YES!_, the demon rejoiced. _The battle is begging for your presence! Can't you hear its call in your very veins? Why are you not already pouncing down upon them? You can destroy them, you_ will _destroy them all!_

The drums of the Blood Wars filled his ears with their deafening and fascinating rhythm. Valen closed his eyes.

_No_, he stated, even as his feet tried to move of their own volition. His hand had already unhooked his flail.

_What do you mean "no"?_, the demon bellowed, the seething rage in his voice making Valen wince. _You_ can't _refuse your own blood right now! Look around you! It's the Blood Wars happening! You were born to fight this battle!_

_No_, Valen repeated, more forcefully. _I was born to do as I wish, and I will never be a battle slave again. I will not be a battle slave to Grimash't, nor will I be a battle slave to myself._

_And you will be a battle slave to that weakling, that disgusting excuse for a mageling, then?_, the demon retorted with disgust.

"Granduc, please, don't lose control now," Valen heard Chama plead urgently. "Stay here. You don't have to fight now; Aribeth and I can manage. Keep your eyes closed and don't listen."

Valen sighed and felt his tense shoulders relax. _See? I am not her slave. But I will fight for her nevertheless._

The demon, silenced and baffled, now sat neatly shackled and restrained in a far corner of Valen's mind. The part of Valen that was the tanar'ri taint watched, utterly disappointed, this golden opportunity slipping out of his grasp because of an untimely intervention by the disgusting elf. And to think that half his heart melted to sentimental nonsense in her presence. The indignity!

Even though he held his demon half under control, Valen's eyes glowed a dull red, so he did not turn to look at Chama. "I will be fine, my love," he said calmly, and he pounced upon the nearest demon.

He struck devil and demon equally, ignoring the screaming tanar'ri warlords who accused him of betraying his own kin.

"I am not of your kin," he spat to one just before the final strike.

When the last of the fiends fell, Valen stopped long moments to tighten the holds on the other half of his person. He felt a delicate hand on his arm.

"Valen, what's wrong?" Chama's voice was soft and gentle.

"This… is not easy for me." He opened his eyes, still glowing red. "I feel my blood rebelling against me the longer we stay here."

"You didn't have to fight here, Granduc. Please… don't risk yourself like this again. Aribeth is capable. I can cast spells. We'll do fine if you need some distance from the fight."

"Thank you, but… it is not this particular battle. It is this very place. My tanar'ri blood calls out for me to destroy everything baatezu." He wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of a shaky hand. "I do not know why the devils here don't descend upon me as it is."

She captured his hand. Quickly removing his glove, she rubbed at his palm and thumb reassuringly.

"Are you going to be able to hold out?", she inquired, her brow creased in concern.

Just her voice and her touch helped a great deal. He took several breaths to calm down.

"I… believe so. It is not easy, but I think I can control myself." He hesitated and scowled, looking over her shoulder at the fallen devils. "Perhaps it would be better if you… left me behind. I cannot guarantee that I won't cause more problems than I help with."

She chuckled. "Foolish man. I'm not leaving you behind, my love. Ever."

A bit ashamed, he smiled at her. "I am glad to hear it, my lady. I would not leave you willingly if I had the choice."

He squeezed her hand and closed his eyes, drawing what strength he could from her contact. When he lifted his eyelids again, his irises were back to their surreal cyan. He kissed her hand, disregarding the magical soot on her fingers from the many spells she had cast during the battle.

"Thank you, my lady. Let us… move on and find the Knower of Names and a way out of here. I shall be fine."

She nodded, and they marched forward to the prison of the Knower of Names.

ooooo

The enigma uttered by the Knower of Places regarding her sister's prison was much clearer once they stood over it. Chama counted the frozen holes in the ground according to the Knower of Places' riddle and found the one holding the Knower of Names. Using a catapult salvaged form the battlefield, she fired a bolt of magical fire at it.

The ice exploded under the force of the impact and out of the icy prison rose the Knower of Names. A tall and white creature, she spread her wings and flew to Chama. An aura both powerful and terrible, but neither benevolent nor hostile, surrounded her. Bending forward to hug Chama close, she whispered something in her ear. With the glacial wind scouring the battlefield, nobody else heard the Knower's words. Chama closed her eyes, as though from relief and contentment, and Valen and Aribeth silently stood by and watched.

"Thank you for my True Name," the elf said. "However, there is one other name I seek: the Reaper's."

"The knowledge of the gods has its price," the Knower of Names warned, "and they demand a strange fee for the Reaper's True Name… There are two items that have aided you in your quest: a ring and an amulet. You must surrender them."

Chama removed the ring and fished the amulet out of her pack. The Knower of Names took them respectfully.

"A small price for our freedom, to be sure," Valen declared, observing the transaction.

"The one you know as the Reaper of Cania is called Hecugoth the Abandoned in the gods' tongue… Is there another name you wish to learn?"

Clearly, the question took Chama by surprise. Suddenly she remembered the Sleeping Man, who still waited by the gates of Cania because he had never learned the location of the Knower of Names…

"Who is the Sleeping Man's One True Love?" Chama asked.

Once the Knower of Names had received the gods' payment, in gold this time, she bent to whisper in Chama's ear, "The Sleeping Man's one true love is called Va'ardalia the Twinsouled in the gods' tongue." Then she straightened and concluded in a normal tone of voice. "You know her as the Lady Aribeth."

Valen and Chama turned to Aribeth, who gasped in disbelief. After the initial shock, Chama chuckled. "I guess I should have seen it coming. Who better than him to give you back your hope? He'll make you young again, I'm sure."

"Do not take it so lightly, Chama," Aribeth protested. "It is a grave matter… He has been waiting for so long…"

Chama became serious in turn. "I know, Ari, but I think it's all right… you have found him by the gates of Cania… the rest will sort itself out in time. Haven't the gods themselves written it upon the stars?"

The paladin fell silent, contemplating the new twist to her destiny. Leaving Aribeth alone with her thoughts, Chama briefly turned to Valen, uncertainty and a certain amount of shame in her eyes. Frowning, Valen guessed she must hesitate to request his True Name.

"To know someone's True Name is to take responsibility for their life and their death, their history and destiny, their wrath and their resting place. You are a great warrior and have earned the right to demand my True Name," Valen declared.

Chama's eyes filled with emotion, but she suddenly veered unto the Knower of Names.

"Who is my one true love?"

Surprised, Valen realized he had misunderstood the cause of Chama's hesitation, but he did not resent her question. Smiling gently, the Knower leaned forward to whisper in Chama's ear alone. "He is called Oeskathine the Demonwrestler in the gods' tongue." Chama closed her eyes, relief washing through her. She certainly knew who "Demonwrestler" stood for. The Knower straightened and completed in a louder voice, "You know him as Valen Shadowbreath."

Turning sheepishly to Valen, Chama saw him grinning at her; he did not seem to take offence that she needed the reassurance of his True Name to be certain of their love. She turned to the Knower.

"Thank you, Knower. His name is music to my ears."

"As yours is to mine, my dear," he answered, extending a hand to caress her shoulder briefly.

"I am glad the truth pleases you," the ancient baatorian replied with a kind smile. "Not all react so warmly… Now is there another name you wish to know?"

"My kobold friend Deekin's."

Again, the Knower bent to whisper in Chama's ear. "He is called Ixthyria the Scalesinger in the gods' tongue… Is there another name you wish to learn?"

"The Sleeping Man's."

The Knower spoke his name in secret again. "He is called Celesfa'ar the Patient in the gods' tongue… Is there another name you wish to learn?"

Eyes narrowed in shrewd thought, Chama considered her options for a moment.

"Yours."

This time the Knower of Names spoke aloud. "I am Phyresi the Knower."

"And what is Mephistopheles' True Name?"

Valen and Aribeth exchanged a quick glance, before turning back to Chama and the Knower facing each other. The ancient baatorian's countenance hardened in evidence of her refusal to answer.

"The one thing that could have unravelled my love's duplicity during the False Rebellion would have been the realization that he and Baron Molikroth were one and the same. He took steps to ensure that the truth would never come to light and he forbade me to ever speak his name. Forgive me and my heart that loved him but that is one name I cannot tell you… Perhaps there is another?"

"I forgive you," Chama pronounced. "But I have to ask forgiveness of you, because he is destroying a world I love. Phyresi the Knower, speak Mephistopheles' True Name."

The winged creature paled and bowed her head in defeat.

"Very well, though the gods must still have their price and for one such as him, it was always high… Are you willing to sacrifice five hundred thousand gold to learn Mephistopheles' True Name?"

Without hesitation, Chama emptied nearly all her gold into the Knower's bag of offerings.

"The one you know as the devil Mephistopheles, Lord of the Eighth Hell, is called Thra'axfyl the Ambitious in the gods' tongue… Damn you, Hellwalker, is there another name you wish to learn?"

"No, there is no other," Chama stated. "We must return to the gates of Cania now… can you take us there, much like the Knower of Places did?"

"I can," the Knower declared tersely.

And without a last goodbye, she swept them through a portal that took them back to the City of Lost Souls. Chama's mind resonated with the True Names she had learned, and she required time to reflect on their meaning and power.

She realized that Aribeth and Valen were watching her, awaiting her next order for a few seconds already. Valen's drawn and exhausted look struck her; the fight against the demon within tired him. Going straight away to the Reaper and to Waterdeep did not seem like a good idea. Valen had fought enough devils for the time being.

"Let's take a rest," Chama decided. "We deserve it after the battlefield we just scoured."

Aribeth and Valen both nodded, and followed her to the Hellbreath tavern. Aribeth went straight to her room, but Chama held Valen back.

"I'd like to talk to you… just knock on my wall when you're ready, all right?"

Valen nodded, entered his room and closed the door against the sounds of the common room. After the battles of the day, the sudden silence permeating the cold air appeased him, but still the demon was close to the surface. He disrobed and took a bath, though he did not linger in the cold water. He cleaned his armour and weapons, and then knocked on the wall his room shared with Chama's.

After a few seconds, she knocked at his door. He opened and they went to sit on the bed together.

"Valen," Chama started right away, worry plain in her voice, "are you angry because I asked the Knower who my one true love was?"

He blinked. "No. Why would I be?"

"Well… it feels as though I should know without asking what the gods think of it."

Despite the exhaustion and the demon close to the surface, Valen chuckled and put an arm around her shoulders. "Chama. Being in love and finding your one true love are different things… there are countless people who fall in love and then discover a few years later that it doesn't really work. You should know if you love me, but there is no way to know if I am your one true love but to ask the Knower of Names. If she had said that we are not meant to be together, then… then maybe it would have been better not to pursue our relationship. But to know that we _can_ work it out… it feels good; it does not make me angry. But it doesn't mean that everything will be easy anyway… just that it is possible."

She hugged him. "Thank you to reassure me all the time like this. I hope I don't bother you too much with my doubts."

"Not at all, my love," he answered. _I understand why you have doubts_, he thought, but he did not say. She did not need to be reminded of her past again.

However good his embrace felt, Chama perceived some tension in Valen, so she freed herself from his arms.

"Lie down, Granduc," she ordered quietly. "Get under the covers."

All the injuries he had sustained had seriously indented his stamina, and wrestling with the demon within on the very battlefield of the Blood Wars had mentally exhausted him. So he obeyed Chama's gentle command without a fight and lay down on his back. He looked up from misty eyes shifting from cyan to red at Chama moving to kneel behind his head. Resting her fingers lighting on each side of his head, she started to slowly rub his temples. Eyelids fluttering, he sighed deeply.

"Relax. Breathe deeply, slowly."

He could do no other than obey her. She traced delicate circles on his temples, trying to remember exactly how the priestesses had done with her. It had happened centuries ago; when she had been in too much pain and the spells did not help anymore, the priestesses had used the ages-old knowledge of massage to soothe her when magic could not.

Valen's breathing gradually calmed, became regular, and then slowed to a drowsy sigh while her hands gently massaged his temples. The frown on his brow disappeared.

Threading her fingers through his hair, she put good pressure behind his ears and on the node at the base of his skull. She gently massaged his first vertebrae and his arms fell limply on each side of his body. His head grew progressively heavier in her hands.

His breathing became slower and shallower, hinting that he fell asleep. Gently she let his head down on his pillow, and then bent down to plant a butterfly kiss on his forehead. He stirred and drowsily rubbed his cheek when her hair tickled his face. With a fond smile at her sleeping beloved, she snuffed the candles and slid out of the room silently.


	33. Patience

Chapter XXXII. Patience

Concern for Valen chased sleep away, so Chama rolled in her cape and climbed the stairway out of the tavern, up to the chilling surface of Cania. To her surprise, she found Aribeth by one of the braziers near the door, staring absently into the flames. Obviously, Chama was not the only one who had things to ponder. The elf slowly walked up to the paladin.

"Are you alright, Ari?"

Startled out of thoughts, Aribeth nodded. "Yes, just a little unsettled." Then she turned to stare attentively at Chama. "But you… is there something wrong? Does Valen require healing?"

Chama chuckled. "You can read my concern for him so easily?"

"With the Reaper's True Name in our possession, I can hardly imagine anything else that would cause you such worry. Is he alright?"

"Yes," Chama sighed heavily. "He… feels strongly the call of the Blood Wars. It is hard to refuse."

"I see," Aribeth murmured sorrowfully. Valen was a good man, and she felt sympathy that he had to resist such an evil temptation.

"Even when we were in the Underdark, I wondered how he could fight at all without the demon taking over. But he's doing much better than that now. He's in _Baator_ facing _devils_ and still he doesn't give in. Oh, Aribeth… he's so _strong_."

Inwardly, however, Chama wished wistfully to possess such strength as his, because she succumbed much more easily to temptation than he did, yet it was no fault of some demon blood in her veins urging her to sow chaos and death in her wake.

Smiling gently, Aribeth put a half-corporeal hand on her friend's shoulder.

"Yes, he is strong, Chama. But so are you. You both draw strength from the other. It gives me hope, to think that I might one day know such love."

"I wish I hadn't forced Valen to come here," Chama added. But then she glanced around to ensure that no one could overhear her and bent to whisper in Aribeth's ear. "His name is Celesfa'ar the Patient." Aribeth did not need to be told that her friend did not refer to Valen anymore. Then Chama straightened. "And… and thank you, Ari."

The paladin nodded and squeezed Chama's shoulder before the elf slid back silently into the shelter of the Hellbreath tavern. Lifting her eyes from the flames, Aribeth stared up at the temple of the Sleeping Man: another ugly metal building littering the icy floor of the Eighth, yet hiding a celestial within its halls. She gathered her cape around her cold shoulders and started towards it.

As in a daze, she walked to the heavy steel doors of the temple. Some sense of reality and responsibility came back to her then. Her shaking hand paused on its way upwards to the door's leaf.

Was she ready to claim to love another yet, so soon? Memories of Fenthick, of that old tree in Neverwinter, of her pain and the emptiness and coldness in her heart after his death swirled in her mind. Was she ready to love again? Indeed, could she love at all? And one she did not know; one whose destiny was to find love. Could she really be the one destined to teach love to a celestial? The twinsouled, the blackhearted, the betrayer?

Her hand still lifted, Aribeth closed her eyes. The paladin thought back on Chama's words then – the gods themselves had written their love upon the stars. He could give her hope; he could make her young again. Eons had passed since first the Sleeping Man had come here, in the hope of meeting his one true love – _her_. He had waited all this time for _her_. Nervousness crept down into her stomach and churned there like a thousand butterflies. How could she be up to his expectations?

She sent a quick prayer to Tyr, but received only a cold answer. She reeled; she so needed her god's guidance at that moment. Taking a breath and squaring her shoulders, she told herself maybe she needed to act alone for once. So she did.

Lifting her hand to the door's leaves, she pushed them open and entered the temple. The sensei Dharvana nodded to her quietly. Aribeth silently crossed the library, then the long corridor leading to the Sleeping Man's room. Slowly she made her way to the dais, and knelt besides the slumbering celestial. She remained one step lower than where he lay, his feathers ruffled and his skin covered in goose bumps because of the chilling drafts of wind. She knelt there a while, observing him as he slept. Even though he seemed peaceful, his circled eyes and shallow cheeks hinted to some exhaustion on his part.

Her voice quavering, she whispered, "Celesfa'ar the Patient…" He stirred lightly, as if somehow knowing that someone commanded him, and Aribeth stopped. She did not know what she wished to command him; she had called his name while she had the courage to.

"I have learned the name of your one true love," she went on. "It is I, Va'ardalia the Twinsouled, the spirit known as Lady Aribeth."

Still he did not move, his chest lifting regularly in his sleep. Aribeth watched him, holding her breath, wondering what more she need do. Suddenly opening his eyes, he turned on his side. Frozen in place, kneeling besides him, Aribeth did not move while he turned his head and noticed her presence by his side. When his eyes met Aribeth's, his full mouth curved into a warm smile. Slowly, but without hesitation, he propped himself on an elbow and reached up to kiss her.

Closing her eyes, Aribeth tasted the flowers on his lips and the sweetness of his arms gently pulling her into his celestial embrace. Unbidden, the cruel thought rose in her mind that she had done nothing to deserve such a gentle embrace, and that she had never felt this way with Fenthick.

"My one true love…", the Sleeping Man whispered. He pulled himself on his knees and leaned back, holding her tenderly at arms' length to look at her. "My Lady Aribeth… Long have I waited for you. Long have I dreamed that this day would come."

Closing her eyes against the tears, she pulled back slowly. "The journey that led me here has been long and tortuous. You have slept and cannot know what I have done, but my honour commands me to be honest with you."

Smiling, he put his hand on her cheek in a gentle and reassuring gesture. "Tell me what weighs so much in your heart."

She flinched away from his touch. The serenity radiating from his hand scalded her; they made her feel even guiltier by comparison.

"In life, I brought great evil upon my homeworld." She paused, wondering how she could explain everything she had done, and doom crashed down upon her. She did not even know where to begin; the list of her sins was too long.

"Perhaps you have," the Sleeping Man admitted gently. "But I believe that a spark of good lies even in the darkest of hearts. Perhaps you are to be redeemed. The gods would not pair us together without reason."

Aribeth sighed, trying to let his quiet confidence reassure her. Slowly he pulled her in his arms again.

"I sense that your life has indeed been difficult before you found me here. But you can let it go, now; I am here, and you need not fear my judgement… Rest now, here with me." Partly against herself, partly in utter relief, Aribeth leaned into his embrace, her head on his broad and strong chest.

A long moment passed. "Would you make one last journey yet for me?" he asked. "I have a home in Elysium's blessed fields. I would like to take you there, that we might live out the remainder of our lives amidst its beauty."

Sighing, a little disappointed at the return of reality, Aribeth straightened. "There is nothing I would want more, my love, but I have duties I must tend to first. Mephistopheles lays siege to my homeworld, Toril, and I must first make the journey there to free it from his grasp."

The celestial's face hardened. "Mephistopheles still rules the Eighth, then, does he? If you would risk your life to face him, my love, then I shall do the same. Let us put his evil to rest." She gaped at him in complete surprise and he smiled amusedly.

"You would join us in this?" Aribeth marvelled. Then she remembered herself. "Thank you, my love, and I pray we both survive the battle. To make my home with you in Elysium would be a dream come true."

He caressed her cheek again, and this time his holy touch did not feel scalding; it felt soothing and calming. "My love goes with you, Aribeth. I will find you there."

Standing, he slowly stretched his wings, testing them after a long period of inactivity.

"Wait!" Aribeth pleaded, taking hold of his lower arm.

Instantly he stilled. His forehead creased in worry. "Is something wrong, my love?"

Hearing those words from his lips, melting warmth spread in her chest, but she managed to speak. "You do not have to leave immediately… Tomorrow, I will cross the gates of Cania back to the Material Plane with my two companions. Our leader has learned the Reaper's True Name. You could spend the night and cross tomorrow with us…"

"Spending another night here?", he replied, obviously appalled. "I have been sleeping in this cold room for millennia… another night here does not tempt me."

Aribeth giggled. "I did not mean _here_. My companions and I have rooms at the local tavern. Not the most comfortable or beautiful accommodations you have ever seen, but our leader is a capable mage… and strikes hard bargains… and she can make our life considerably more comfortable than it would be otherwise. Of course, I would understand if you wished to leave the taint of the Hells immediately…"

Sensing the distress the idea caused her, he relented. "I have been waiting for you here for millennia; another night will not change much. Come… show me this tavern of yours. I think I need a bath."

Aribeth laughed. "Chama will be happy to warm some water for you."

"Chama… is she your leader?"

The paladin nodded. "Yes. Actually, her full name is Chamaedaphne Indiwasi. Our other companion is a tanar'ri tiefling that goes by the name of Valen Shadowbreath, a fierce and honourable warrior and weapon master." Then Aribeth paused thoughtfully. "I would not like to expose your True Name for all to hear, but I would not like to call you 'Sleeping Man' any longer. Have you a given name?"

"I go by the name of Somnus in the Planes. Will this satisfy you?"

Aribeth nodded, and he extended a hand to help her up to her feet. Casually, he wrapped her hand around his arm, and made his way to the door. Aribeth paused thoughtfully.

"Dharvana isn't going to be pleased," she realized.

"Dharvana?"

"The sensei… she is in charge of the temple here."

"Temple? Who is worshipped here?", Shewaine asked, looking around for any godly sign he would recognize.

"She worshipped you, actually. I'm afraid she'll be angry at me for waking you."

Somnus' anger flared. "I am not an object of worship. She should keep her prayers for the gods."

"She is githzerai," Aribeth explained.

"Ah," the planetar said. He knew well the gith and how they worshipped philosophies rather than godly entities. "Then maybe if I am to speak with her, she will be less displeased."

Prudently Aribeth let go of his arm when they entered the library. Agitated and aggressive, Dharvana immediately walked up to the two of them, but looked straight past Somnus to Aribeth.

"Why have you woken him?", she asked.

"She has not awoken me," Somnus corrected in a warm tone of voice. "I woke up on my own, because I have finally found what I was looking for."

With obvious distress the gith looked from one to the other. Looking lovingly at Aribeth, Somnus added, "My one true love…"

He took the paladin's hand and led her out of the temple. Still unsure what to do, the sensei followed their exit with yellow eyes, but did not move.

ooooo

Back at the tavern, Chama was just completing her nightly spell studies when there was a knock on her door. Opening, she found Aribeth and a celestial standing there. The Sleeping Man was now wide awake and warily watched the devils glaring menacingly his way. Chama gestured them in.

"Chama," Aribeth began, "I'd like you to meet Somnus. Somnus, this is Chamaedaphne Indiwasi, our leader."

They shook hands. "I'm glad to make your acquaintance," Chama said with a smile.

"And so am I. I have offered to help my Lady Aribeth in her coming battle against Mephistopheles. So I have lent my arm to your cause."

"Thank you," Chama answered warmly. "Tomorrow, we will familiarize you with our battle strategies and equip you with the equipment you might need… A master smith resides here who can do anything on commission."

"It will be an honour to fight besides you tomorrow," Somnus declared, and bowed low.

Clearing her throat, Aribeth caught Chama's attention. "Since he will come with us tomorrow, I thought that maybe Somnus could spend the night with us here at the tavern. Maybe Valen could share his room…"

"Not Valen," Chama cut worriedly. "He just fell asleep and I don't wish to wake him so soon… he needs his rest. If it's alright with both of you, I would surrender my room and share Aribeth's?"

Both nodded, and so the arrangements were made.


	34. Doubts

_OK, I'm a bad girl. No other excuse for the lateness of this chapter. I've been playing Mass Effect like a freakin addict for the past two weeks. Clocked 80h of gameplay. And counting. Damn is that game good or is it incredible! There definitely should be more RPGs with a shooter engine… As long as they keep it third-person - have pity on me._

_Hm, so I'll stop my ranting here. I hope I haven't lost you all because of the delay…_

Chapter XXXIII. Doubts

The next morning, Valen awoke with a groggy head and heavy limbs. He sat up in his bed sleepily, and realized contentedly that he had slept peacefully throughout the night. He remembered, then, the pleasant feel of Chama's hands in his hair the previous night, soothing him and quietly sending him drifting off into serene sleep.

Smiling, he stepped out of bed, stretched, put his armour back on and strode out of his room purposefully, ready to take on the Reaper and his master Mephistopheles.

A surprise awaited him in the tavern, however. The Sleeping Man was no longer sleeping, but instead stood near Rizolvir's forge, sternly watching the devils staring at him as they would have at a piece of meat. The drow smith knelt by the celestial's right foot and took different measures on the armour's leg, probably to complete its adjustments, amongst which slits in the back through which the Sleeping Man could fit his wings. The celestial also carried a greatsword belted in a simple scabbard at his right hip, and he held a shining helmet under his arm. Aribeth, standing besides him, observed him with a look of startled fondness.

Then Valen spotted Chama, leaning on a wall on their right and obviously checking the door to his room. Valen smiled at the sight and walked towards her. "Good morning, my love."

"Good morning. Slept well?"

"Very peacefully," he murmured with a smile. "But I see we have a new companion." Turning towards the celestial, he extended a hand. "Valen Shadowbreath."

"Somnus of Elysium."

They shook hands and nodded to each other, their eyes level. Valen had not often met humanoids of his height and size, and he had great respect for the great strength visible in Somnus' countenance, even after ages spent sleeping.

After the adjustments to Somnus' armour were done, Chama, Aribeth, Somnus and Valen went to train a while in the central square of the City of Lost Souls, and the damned souls cheered and rejoiced that such great heroes marched to war against Mephistopheles.

Chama and her team crossed the gates back to the Realm of the Reaper. But just before Chama reached for the door that would lead them back to the Prime and the awaiting devil, Valen spoke up.

"So it seems we are arriving at the end of our adventure. Soon we will be out of the Nine Hells… and not a moment too soon, in my opinion."

"You seem almost sad," Chama noted with a worried frown.

"I… I know. I have been fighting the urges of my blood ever since we arrived in Baator. The infernal taint on my soul ever pushes me to continue the Blood Wars, it seems. When I think of all the time I spent fighting here in the Outer Planes… when I think of my humanity being swallowed whole by my demonic half… I can't help but feel there is little hope for me, Chama." He shrugged helplessly.

"I thought the Seer had helped you overcome this," she answered gently.

"She has tried," Valen admitted. "She brought me back from the brink, from the snarling beast I once was… but she can only do so much. In the end, I am on my own with this. My demon half will always be a part of me, something I cannot escape even if I return to your world. I will have to accept that."

Seeing the concern written on Chama's face, Valen grimaced and sighed. He should not have been so selfish and break that out to her just before an important battle. It was not her fault and she could not do much about it either.

"Doesn't our love give you any hope at all?", she added still.

He gazed at her with all the sadness in the world. "I do not know. I have felt cut off from other beings for so long, I… I'm not sure what hope is. Do you think there is hope for the two of us, my lady?"

"Valen… the way you look at me now… can't you see that's all the proof you need to know there's hope? There's always hope."

"Is there?" He looked at her and smiled ruefully. Somehow, even now, when she said those things, he couldn't help but believe her. "Then I shall have to rely on you to remind me of it, my lady. For when you tell me it is so I believe it."

Taking a breath, he squared his shoulders and gestured to the door. "Let's find Mephistopheles and have this battle over with. I cannot wait for the future to come, now."

She hesitated a while, but then turned to Aribeth and Somnus standing by her side. Walking to the paladin, Chama hugged her to whisper in her ear.

"Va'ardalia the Twinsouled…"

Wincing as though she had been slapped, Aribeth pulled away rudely.

"Chama!"

"Forgive yourself for what happened in Neverwinter," the elf finished, ignoring the ghost's indignation.

"But what I did was wrong! Countless innocents died by my actions and countless friends as well. To feel no guilt, no remorse, is to become cold to the world. It would be inhuman. Is that what you ask of me?"

"No, Aribeth… This is your atonement… how you finally escape the Hells…"

Smiling gently, Somnus put a reassuring hand on Aribeth's shoulder. She turned the words in her head for a while, then declared, "I suppose the gods have their mysteries. But what is commanded in their tongue must have their sanction, for good or ill. By your command, I am atoned… Is there anything more?"

"No, Aribeth, that is all."

Then Chama turned and stared at Valen for a long time, her eyes deeply troubled. In the end Valen broke the silence before it became truly unbearable.

"Yes, my lady?"

"Never mind. I'm not certain enough."

She turned towards the gate, and crossed it, immediately followed by her companions. And then, at long last, they stood before Mephistopheles.

ooooo

Valen seethed. A devil stood before him, and he knew he must fight it – but not for demon blood; for the sake of the Prime itself. His eyes were red and he did not care. After his encounter with Mephistopheles in the Valsharess' tower, he knew he needed the help of the demon within him. He need only avoid being completely overrun. Destruction _was_ called for, just not without control.

He took a step forward towards the devil, who had grown a few feet in height and draconian wings since their last meeting, to shield Chama from the baatezu's hits. Aribeth stood by his right side, and Somnus a little further back.

Of course, the confrontation had to start with Mephistopheles' explanation of the reason of his attempted conquest of the Prime. A devil could not simply engage in a battle, he needed to expose his motives to gloat over the cleverness of his own schemes. Demons, for their part, always approached a confrontation directly, and Valen found wordy opponents boring and frustrating. He nevertheless listened silently and Chama chose to meet Mephistopheles' comments with a simple statement, which suited Valen just fine.

"We've come to stop you."

"You and which army, foolish mortal?", Mephistopheles laughed. "I dare say it seems they have run off and left you alone to face me. A pity."

"They haven't run off," Chama corrected patiently. "I told them that we'd handle you."

Laughing, the archdevil turned to her companions. Firmly standing his ground, Valen met the devil's gaze straight on when he turned to him.

"So," Mephistopheles began, "the young tiefling still deigns to travel with you… Valen Shadowbreath, is it not? A pleasure to meet you, my young man. The reputation of one such as yourself precedes you."

"We've nothing to say to one another, devil," Valen snarled. With the demon so close to the surface, the growl came easily out of his throat. "You are baatezu and I am tanar'ri. There can be nothing but death between us."

"Oh? But you are mostly human," the devil went on with a slow, treacherous smile. "What if I was to tell you that I could relieve you of that demonic taint forever? I could free you from the Blood Wars, young man. What would that be worth, I wonder?"

Toying idly with the talons of his right hand, the devil looked at Valen out of the corner of his eye. Valen glared right back at him.

"It would not be worth betraying my love for Chama, that is sure," he declared haughtily. "If there is a taint to be removed today, it is yours, devil!"

Mephistopheles did not even spare a sneer in Valen's direction, but blatantly ignored him to turn to Aribeth.

"But I do see you brought your pretty little paladin with you… It feels like such a long time since we last met, doesn't it, my dear? If I recall, you fled in tears, quite confused about your place in the world…"

Trying to hide her fear, Aribeth plunged ahead defiantly. "That was then and this is now, Hell-fiend. Chama has led me back to Tyr's blessing and it is Tyr whom I now serve. Even you, in all your might, dare not stand against his wrath."

"Tyr, you say?", the devil chuckled malevolently. "Then I presume it is Tyr's spells you wield against me? Guess again, princess! They're my spells! Mine! I played Chamaedaphne as a puppet with the Valsharess and I did the same in Cania. All this time, you thought you were traipsing through Cania in the name of Tyr? How quaint. Tyr abandoned you, Aribeth, and couldn't care less about you now!"

"No, it's not true! It… It can't be! I believed again. I could have sworn I still saw beauty in the world…"

"Blah, blah, blah. You've done quite a number on her, Chamaedaphne. If I wasn't about to kill you, I might just congratulate you. You've got her twisted around your little finger. So what's it gonna be, Princess: her or me?"

Aribeth closed her eyes on stinging tears of shame. "No matter what I do, it seems I am only capable of bringing evil into the world… I will side with you, Mephistopheles. There is no other choice."

But then a hand landed lightly on her shoulder. It was warm and gentle, kind and loving, and there was no hint of doubt in the move.

"You have the choice, Aribeth," Somnus said, his rich voice deep and gentle. "I love you. That is not evil."

And then, standing on the scorched square of Waterdeep littered with the corpses of Mephistopheles' victims, Aribeth realized that it was not her real faith that she had felt reborn when she had pledged her sword to Tyr in the frozen cave where she had tried to become one of the Lost. Because faith was flowing in her right now, like a warm, familiar and reassuring fire coursing through her veins, giving her the desire to live. She turned to the celestial awaiting her answer confidently and patiently.

"You have brought me back from an icy grave, Somnus. You are my rock, my touchstone… my love… If nothing else, I believe in you."

The angel smiled warmly. Out of the corner of her eye, Aribeth could see Chama grinning like an idiot and even Valen, usually dour and harsh, seemed pleased with the turn of events.

Snorting, Mephistopheles brought them back to the reality of the battle at hand.

"Try what you might, you cannot stop me, mortal. I know you far too well."

"Really," Chama shot back slyly. "Try what _you_ might then."

And on this signal, Aribeth raised her sword, Valen swung his flail, and Mephistopheles lifted his spear. And they clashed.


	35. The Battle of Waterdeep

_Sorry for the short chapter, but it was that or 7000 words… next one will be longer, I promise. I hope you're still hanging in there despite the repeated delays…_

Chapter XXXIV. The Battle of Waterdeep

Valen and Aribeth shared the first line as they had agreed, with Somnus and Chama protecting them with healing and defensive spells. Chama rained destruction on Mephistopheles in the form of incredibly powerful spells – epic spells, Valen knew, which only grand wizards could ever hope to master. However, even they accomplished remarkably little against the devil's skin, which was as hard as the strongest metal, and the warriors' enchanted weapons did not fare much better, even though they were wielded by three of the deadliest fighters of the planes.

The battle raged on for hours. The sun held on high in the sky for a time before inching downward to the west. Weariness settled in Valen's limbs, but he relentlessly pressed his attacks, drawing from the ferocity of the demon within. Aribeth held her ground to his left, her incorporeal features blurred with exhaustion. Sometime in the middle of it, Somnus joined them on the first line, his spells exhausted. Only Chama still cast, interspersing her spells with quick forays into Mephistopheles' space to deliver sneak attacks at his back.

Gradually, exhaustion and injuries veiled Valen's perspective with a surreal cast. Fighting on pure instinct, the tiefling stopped to monitor the devil's agonizingly slow but steady weakening. He had been in this battle for the entirety of his life, and it encompassed the meaning and the very essence of his existence.

The fog only lifted when the devil collapsed on one knee. Suddenly Valen remembered his three battle companions, and the little detail of Mephistopheles' plans of invasion of the Prime. But it did not change the fact that it had been the fight of his life. Glancing back at Somnus, Aribeth and Chama, with immense relief he saw them all still standing, though they seemed as drawn as he.

Shuddering, the arch-devil bent forward to support himself on the ground with a hand, each downward inch conceded only grudgingly, even though blood mixed with fire sprouted from the thousand wounds on his body. Sputtering blood, he spoke to Chama with difficulty.

"It appears you have been my downfall, mortal… I underestimated you. Next time I won't make the same mistake…"

Quickly extending a hand to her arm, Valen stopped Chama who marched on the devil in defiance. Even though Mephistopheles appeared genuinely bested, devils could be deceitful, and Chama was not wary enough. They stood close enough to Mephistopheles' prostrate form.

"There will not be a next time. Thra'axfyl the Ambitious, I command you to stop the destruction you seek to bring to the Prime."

"My… My True Name!", Mephistopheles exclaimed, some life returning to his injured and battered body. Fire ran wilder out of his wounds. "You've commanded me!? Where did you learn it?!" He grunted, fighting to the last of his strength against the command of his name in the gods' tongue. "But I must obey! What… what is it you wish of me, mistress? How must I serve you?"

"Thra'axfyl the Ambitious, I command you to return to Cania and remain there forever."

He snorted. "Banished to Cania, home and exile all at once… Thank you, mistress! Thank you for your mercy! May frozen Cania be my home forevermore…"

Too weak to stand, the arch-devil performed his spell down on his knees. Under his lifted hand, a gate circle appeared on the ground, glowing in wicked red. Three pillars of stone erupted from the ground to encage the devil and he disappeared from the Prime material plane, a malevolent glint in his eyes still.

Valen took a few seconds to catch his breath, while the sound of the drums of the Blood Wars washed out from his ears and their beat faded from his veins. Slowly he sorted out his human and demon halves and reasserted himself above his tanar'ri half. His eyes reverted to their cyan colour.

Then he noted that Chama's knees were shaking as she struggled to keep to her feet, and she was bleeding. She had been hit more than once when Mephistopheles had teleported her close enough to hit her with his trident, and also when she had rushed at his back to deliver sneak attacks. In an instant, Valen was by her side and had lifted her off in his arms.

"Why did you wait until now to use his True Name?", he asked.

"Because I thought we were strong enough to bring him down somewhat, and I felt it better to weaken him before returning him to Cania, lest he hatch another plan too soon."

He shook his head at the risky scheme, and silently surveyed the extent of her wounds. His heart constricted in his chest.

"We need to bring you to a priest, my love," he stated the obvious.

Aribeth and Somnus, also bloodied and battered, walked up to them, leaning on each other.

"You appear to know this city, Chama," Aribeth remarked. "Where would we find a temple? We are all in need of healing."

At that point relative silence had reigned over the city, and Durnan chose that moment to timidly peer through a creak in a barricaded doorway. Seeing the four companions standing, alive, and no Mephistopheles anywhere, he pushed the door open completely and with a joyous cry rushed to them. All hell broke loose as everyone in Waterdeep let out their collectively held breath and burst in euphoric cheers.

"You beat him!", Durnan exclaimed. "By the bloody Hells, you beat him! You freed Waterdeep! You freed us all!"

"Yes, we did," Chama agreed in a weary sigh. "But please, Durnan, keep the celebrations for later. We've just been through the Eighth Hell and we need healing and a rest."

"Of course! Come on over at the inn, it's been repurposed to tend to the wounded because it was right by the battlefield. White Thesta's there. But you'll have to tell me your tale later, Chama."

"Durnan, I promise I'll tell you everything and I'll even try to be as good as Deekin. But please… right now I want some rest."

With that, she passed out, her head on Valen's shoulder. The four comrades followed Durnan to what burning ruins were left of his inn, the Yawning Portal. Cots supporting wailing and wounded men littered the common room, with White Thesta and her acolytes patrolling the narrow aisles between them. Despite Chama's injuries that worried Valen greatly, sudden fear coiled in the pit of his stomach. If this was what Mephistopheles had been capable of doing to Waterdeep, then what had he done to the Underdark? Had the Seer, Imloth, Deekin, Nathyrra and all the others managed to escape with their lives?

Distracting him from his worry, Durnan bellowed to White Thesta to "come heal the heroes". Leaving the wounded she was treating to one of her acolytes, the priestess walked up to Valen. Unlike the common soldiers she had merely saved with spells and patched up with bandages, she healed Chama, Valen, Somnus and Aribeth with spells all the way. Valen gave her an inquisitive look.

"It is the reward I can afford for those who sent Mephistopheles back to Hell. Now, I would suggest a bit of _rest_ for the four of you," she concluded with a pointed stare at Valen holding Chama in his arms. Despite the ludicrousness of the idea, considering how both of them were bruised and exhausted, the tall warrior blushed furiously. Trying to cover up his embarrassment, he turned to Durnan.

"I would gladly take White Thesta up on that offer. Is there some place we can lie down for a while?"

"Here, follow me. There's some private quarters left, something I arranged in nearby houses for the army commanders. We'll accommodate you easily."

Durnan guided the four adventurers to a neighbouring house. Halfway across the street, Chama regained consciousness.

"Granduc, you can set me back on my feet, I'm fine now." Sudden cheer came over Valen at the sound of her voice and at her struggles to escape his arms. He set her down gently, supporting her when she swayed for a second. They made their way into a relatively intact house that seemed to have suffered nothing worse than soot on its stony façade and two broken windows. They crossed a living room transformed into a war council and climbed a set of stairs to find themselves in a quiet corridor. Durnan pointed out the four doors on the left side and designated them as their rooms.

"Durnan, I know these are no easy times, but I would so love a hot bath. Is it possible?"

The old innkeeper smiled at her in a fatherly manner. "Chama, after what you just did, anything is possible."

"And it would also be possible for my companions, I hope?"

"Of course. Make yourselves comfortable, someone will be up in a moment with the hot water."

Durnan disappeared down the hall, leaving the four companions alone. Chama exchanged a long look with them.

"What you did… what we all did… it was extraordinary. I would never have survived this far without you. I want to say 'thank you', but it doesn't even start to cover it."

"I share the feeling," Aribeth said with a smile.

"It has been an honour to join you in the final battle," Somnus declared. "It was a worthy cause and I am proud to have been part of this victory."

Everyone turned to Valen, awaiting his comment on the situation, but instead the tiefling glared pointedly at Somnus and Aribeth. Taking their cue, the ghost and celestial inclined their heads and entered the two rooms nearest the staircase. Once alone in the corridor with Chama, Valen removed his gauntlet and gently caressed her hair. She looked up at him with an utterly vulnerable look in her eyes.

"You know you don't have to thank me, my love. I said I would storm the Nine Hells themselves for you. I meant it, and it has been worth it."

Closing her eyes, she took his hand in hers. "Oh, Valen. Thank you. I could never have done it without you."

He chuckled. "It is I who should thank _you_. But for now we should go into our rooms before Durnan comes back and finds us here."

Smiling, she stepped towards her room, pausing briefly to squeeze his fingers a last moment before letting go and disappearing inside the furthest room. Entering his own room with a sigh, Valen started removing his armour. Just a few minutes later, a group of soldiers whose duties had been changed from the battle against Mephistopheles to a simple carrying of water entered and poured him a hot bath.

ooooo

As soon as the soldiers had left, Chama locked the door behind them, disrobed and slid into the hot water. She had a particularly keen appreciation for the steamy water because she had suffered from the cold in Cania. However, the heat eroded her control and she had to fight not to lose consciousness as she washed herself, acutely aware of the weakness of her female body. She had always thought her weakness was something cursed upon her along with her sex; even though she had trained hard to become a hunter for two decades, she had never managed to pass the tests of endurance. She had eventually been forced to realize that she would never have the necessary constitution to be a ranger. She often wondered how Aribeth could be as tough and strong as many men. Not as much as Valen though. Not many men were as tough, quick and strong as Valen, and less women, Chama thought.

Pushing away the useless concerns, Chama finished cleaning herself and slid into a priestess robe that White Thesta had lent her. Looking over at Balpheron's robe discarded next to the bath tub, all drenched by the snow, scorched by fire and splattered in blood and gore, Chama nearly fainted at the mere idea of washing it. The robe's magic would have rewoven its scorched and torn places by itself tomorrow anyway. She left it to rot on the floor for the time being; surely there was still _one_ chambermaid left in all of Waterdeep? Chama put some order in her pack and spell reagents. Then she silently slid out of her room and knocked on Valen's door.


	36. Celebrating Victory

Chapter XXXV. Celebrating Victory

Valen answered the knock almost immediately, opening the door with a faint flush to his cheeks.

"Might we speak?", Chama asked with a smile.

Recognizing his own phrase, he moved back from the entrance with a smile, gesturing her in. He had been cleaning his armour, she saw.

"What did you want to discuss, my love?", he asked, pulling her a chair in front of the small table where he settled to resume his work on his armour.

"Nothing really specific, Granduc. It's just that… that it's over. I'm tired, but I felt… felt like having some company. Your company, in fact."

Smiling warmly, Valen bent over the table and armour to kiss her forehead.

"I'm glad you do. I was polishing my armour to distract myself from you; I thought you would be too tired to bear my presence tonight, but I very much wanted to spend the evening with you."

She smiled and jutted her chin at the suit of mail lying on the table. "How's your armour? Not too badly damaged?"

"Badly enough. I'd like Rizolvir to take a look at it, even though it is not possible at the moment. I do not think I would trust any other smith with such a suit of armour."

"It's too bad Rizolvir ended up in Cania. He didn't deserve to spend eternity in Hell. I wish I could have taken him out of there."

"I think he wasn't unhappy about his new location, Chama. His only passion in life was the working of steel, and as long as he has that, I don't think he'll be unhappy in Hell."

Chama sighed. "I wish it were that easy. I'm pretty sure Mephistopheles will come by the knowledge that it's Rizolvir's supplies that made us survive until we found the Knower of Names. I hope Mephistopheles won't make him pay for that."

Closing her eyes, she sighed and tried to smooth the frown from her forehead. Valen's silence, in front of her, marked his pause in polishing his armour.

"You take too much on your shoulders, my love," the tiefling protested. "Rizolvir supplied anyone willing to pay his fees with whatever they needed. I don't think he'll be deemed to have made such a difference for us during our stay in Cania. The dragon innkeeper was much more accommodating to us, thanks to your silver tongue and your supply of rogue stones."

"Maybe I do take too much upon myself," Chama sighed. "Maybe that's what it is to be a Hero. To carry the world on your shoulders."

"You can't, my love. We are just mortals. We will help wherever we can, but we can't carry the world on our shoulders. The world has to care for itself for the most part."

"You know, that's why I sent Mephistopheles back."

Valen looked up to her curiously. "What do you mean?"

"I never thought I'd understand all this druidic stuff about balance the elders spewed out to me when I was young, but unexpectedly I find that I do. When Mephistopheles finally stood before us on the Prime, I considered killing him outright – either with sword and spell, or with his True Name. But I'm a spellcaster, and my spellcraft gives me a hunch that an arch-devil cannot be vanquished definitively. I have an intuition that, eventually, he would have managed to refocus his essence or something. That is why I did not order you, Aribeth and Somnus to finish him. I also thought of ordering the devil with the power of his True Name to pursue good instead of evil."

Valen stared at her. "That thought certainly wouldn't have crossed my mind. A good arch-devil? What an alien concept."

"Yes. I tried to evaluate the consequences ever since the Knower of Names told us his True Name. It would mean the eighth level of Hell would be turned into something else entirely, that its ruler would be utterly transformed, that the devils inhabiting it would suddenly find themselves in a place where they cannot torture souls any longer, that the Heavens would have an unexpected ally in the middle of their enemies' territory, and so on. I came to the conclusion that I could not evaluate the effects such a change would have on the global state of things. I had no idea if it would come to more good or bad in the end, and what unexpected consequences it could cause. So I thought it unwise to order such a thing. I do not have a god's wisdom to ponder such great problems."

"So you ordered him back to Cania, the most conservative order to give him with his True Name."

"Yes. The Blood Wars are an ancient but efficient mechanism that controls the dynamics of the forces of Evil and holds a delicate but resilient balance between the Hells and the Abyss. Exiling Mephistopheles forever to Cania was the action most unlikely to bring a number of grave unexpected consequences. Besides, Ao himself ordered the demons and devils to inhabit the Hells and the Abyss, and to keep out of the Prime. I thought that, if I did not possess enough wisdom to take a decision alone, I could follow the guidance of the Overfather and act accordingly with his decrees."

Valen nodded. "I think the Seer was right, Chama. You possess more wisdom than you give yourself credit for."

Chama shook her head. "I only have enough wisdom to recognize my failings."

Valen smiled. "You are entitled to your opinion, my lady."

She grinned at that and he resumed cleaning his armour. They sat together in companionable silence for a while, giving Chama ample occasion to observe him. His hands were tall and strong, yet delicate and assured in their moves as he polished the metal of his armour. He had lowered his head over his work, and his hair, damp from his bath and of a darker red than usual, was bound at the nape of his massive neck by a leather stripe. Peculiar horns she had nevertheless grown accustomed to protruded from his head. His strong neck and broad shoulders played under the linen clothes he wore, rolling as he flipped his armour over.

He was physically imposing. The very air around him seemed filled with his powerful and commanding presence. Still, all his physical strength and impressive self-mastery did not scare her anymore; if anything, he was stronger and more imposing now that his body had been hardened by their adventure through Hell. Sometimes she wondered how it could be that her fear had so utterly disappeared, but she did not question it overmuch. She was content with the fact that the contrast of his firm muscles and heart-breaking tenderness, put her mind and body at peace. She could relax and abandon herself in his embrace.

She felt safe in his arms.

He had held her amorously only twice. The Hells were not a place that was exactly inviting for loving embraces. But tonight, in this quiet inn after the storm had blown over, Chama wanted to celebrate their freedom from Hell in a way she had barely dared to dream of.

She wanted to be safe in his arms tonight.

"Valen," she said quietly, a fierce blush heating her face, ears and neck.

"Yes, Chama?" He looked up at her, probably alarmed by the tone of her voice.

"Will you stay with me tonight?"

Valen's eyes flickered down to his armour, which he put down carefully before looking up again to scrutinize her face closely.

"I will, my love. If that is truly your wish."

"It's my wish, Valen. When we first met and began to travel together, you forced me to face you as I would have faced a human male – taller, bigger, stronger, and physically over-powering. I was forced to face you, and soon enough my attraction to you, and you did not offer the comfortable safety of weakling's subservience and infinite softness. You are a strong and proud man, and even if you always defended me in battle, I _knew_ you had the potential for anger and violence.

"But it didn't matter.

"I was enthralled. At first I thought it was fate's punishment for my actions, to fall in love with a man who scared me because he could easily dominate me physically.

"But then one night you had a nightmare. I looked the demon in the eye, Valen. _And I was not afraid._ I knew that you would wake up and be horrified by what happened.

"You woke up and were horrified.

"That is when you forced me to face something else: my freedom from those men that still terrified me even though they are but dust in their graves for centuries now. My freedom was right before me. It was in you: a man I loved, who was strong but good, who forced me to face my fears even as he would protect me. And from that moment, I started to believe the Seer who said I could be redeemed. I _could_ be redeemed. I could _love_. I could be _free_ again.

"I will tell you what I wish tonight, Valen. I wish to let go of the past, what was done to me and what I did to others. I want to feel safe, to feel beautiful, to be loved. And I wish to be free from those demons from my past. Will you… will you show me? Will you set me free?"

Valen, his throat tight from the emotion, stood and pulled her up in his arms.

"If you can come to me, my love, it is that you have already freed yourself," he answered, gently caressing her back. "I will only be with you when you cross the door."

She clung to him tightly and he held her a long time before stepping back.

"I think it would be more… discreet if we stayed in your room, Chama. Aribeth and her elven ears will hear that you share my room."

Chama blushed, but nodded. Valen quickly set his armour on its stand in the corner of the room, before he grabbed his half-unmade pack and slung it over his shoulder. Chama was still blushing when he took her hand and accompanied her to her own room.

ooooo

Valen followed her inside and quietly closed and bolted the door shut behind them. Aside from her equipment neatly piled in a corner, the room was empty of any personal belongings. Chama yawned suddenly, making Valen smile. Taking her hand again, he thought that maybe now was a good time for a little exposure of his heart…

"My love, it is my turn to tell you something. When I met you, I was forced to face myself too. Chamaedaphne Indiwasi, you have forced me to be a man. The Seer forced me not to be a beast, but you forced me to be a man. When you trusted me to be more than I was, to have convictions, to yearn for an ideal, to… to love you, I found that I could not be less than what you expected me to be.

"The demon within was tempted by the elf's blood. The man was confused and angry around you, because you always kept me off balance. But you were so really bright. Bright, proud, defiant, you stood up to me and held your ground no matter what. And you did not judge me. You inquired about my past, but you never looked down on me or let me intimidate you.

"You accepted me with my failings and my demon blood. You knew what I had been through. I was comfortable around you, I could relate to you. I loved you.

"And then it was time to face the Valsharess. For the first time in my life I was given a future that was mine to choose and that offered infinite possibilities. But the only choice I considered was the one which would lead me to be with you, and when you said there was only one more battle left, I thought you knew and accepted me by your side.

"I wanted to tell you that I loved you since then, but it was some time until we had some privacy. And now I would be free with you tonight. Free of the demon who keeps silent in your presence. I am at peace when you are here… and my life is complete when I hold you. Can I hold you now? Will you make me at peace?", he murmured.

Moving closer to him, she put her arms around his neck and pulled him down to hold her. He took her in his arms, and the blessed quiet of her embrace overcame him. But then she murmured something in his ear.

"Oeskathine the Demonwrestler."

Valen startled as his True Name's magic coursed through him. He felt tied to Chama's voice in a weird way at that moment.

"My True Name. How do you… intend to command me?"

He looked at her suspiciously. He was at her mercy and, even though he trusted her, it was not a position he relished finding himself in, no matter the circumstances.

"I hereby free you of the infernal taint."

He tilted his head, not quite sure he had heard correctly, and wondering what kind of command that was. But suddenly he felt something deep within himself. His eyes went wide and an electrical current ran through him violently. Dimly he felt Chama's hands slowing his fall and steadying him through a seizure. A black and oily sheen slithered through his body and over his skin, before finally hovering higher and away, leaving no trace of its presence.

Chama held a limp Valen on his knees, worried he would fall head first on the floor if she let go of his arms. But then he opened his eyes.

There was something different about him. His eyes were still the same colour, his features were still the same – he still carried horns and a tail – but there was something altered within. The fierce rage barely held in check and the otherworldly aura were gone.

"I… I can't believe it!", he exclaimed. He pulled back to his feet, looking down at himself with incredulity and bringing a hand up to check if he still had his horns. A smile flared on his face slowly, and it warmed Chama's heart.

"The taint… it's gone! I feel… I feel wonderful! I feel human!"

He laughed joyously and lifted her off to spin her up in the air. She yelped at first, but soon joined his happy laughter. It was good to hear Valen laugh so, without heaviness of heart or holding back.

"Thank you! Thank you for this wonderful gift!"

Setting her back down on the floor, he looked down at her.

"Does it really feel that different?", she asked curiously. "I'd hate to lose my dark Valen. I like my men brooding after all."

He chuckled with an easy smile; he marvelled at how naturally it had come to his lips. There was no raging demon holding him back from amusement or happiness.

"You have no idea, Chama. It… it is as if a great weight has been lifted from my shoulders."

She grinned. "So there's hope for us after all?"

He stopped and gazed into her eyes, his expression suddenly loving. He leaned in to kiss her softly.

"I suppose that there is."

"You _suppose_?", she asked in mock outrage.

"Look into my eyes, my love. I have no words for my hope. You will have to read it in my eyes."

Smiling gently, she pulled him down again. He held her tightly, and she turned her head to speak in his ear again.

"I know your True Name, Granduc, so I'll tell you mine. It's…"

"No, my love! You shouldn't tell your True Name to anyone."

"You're not 'anyone'. I trust you to keep it secret or use it when necessary. I'm Ebe'laar the Kind."

Valen's eyes closed of their own volition. _The Kind_. Even in the gods' tongue her name reflected the personality she had at present, and not her past actions. "I will guard your secret, my love."

"As I will keep yours."

And then, Valen decided it was past time he took the initiative. Bending, he easily lifted her in his arms and carried her off to bed. Her nervous blush made him chuckle.

"I think I should have warned you in all honesty," he said, "before I accepted your invitation, that I have every intention of following White Thesta's advice and taking some _rest_ tonight. I make no promises about tomorrow morning, but tonight I will put you to bed and sleep quietly with you in my arms."

She looked so disappointed that he burst out laughing and kissed her lightly on the lips.

"You're too tired, my love. Hell isn't a trek to be taken by mortals. You need a good night of sleep to recuperate."

She scowled. "I think I should have waited until tomorrow to free you from the demon. Maybe he made you a bit less sober and demure."

Valen laughed again. "He certainly made me more impatient, but that is just one more thing I would have fought against to do things right. Because I am determined to fight off anything. But exhausting you more than you already are would not be doing things right. Now, if you remove your weight from my sleeve so I can get up…"

She rolled off his sleeve with an amused smile.

"I usually sleep without my shirt," he said. "Would it… bother you?"

Lifting an eyebrow playfully, she lay back down on the bed and watched him appreciatively. "I don't think it will."

Valen's eyes darkened to a cobalt blue at her relaxed pose and suggestive tone. He slowly pulled his tunic off, tilting his head in an old habit so it would not catch on his horns. Chama's eyes widened suddenly, and Valen looked down at himself curiously. Numerous bruises covered his chest, everywhere Mephistopheles' trident had skewered him.

All seduction gone from Chama's stance, she sat up to review his bruises more closely. He stood motionless as she looked at him. It was the first time she _stared_ at him unguardedly like this. Her eyes slowly slid over the marks of his magically healed wounds, then over his older scars.

"Such injuries you have survived. I don't think I can ever send you on the first line again knowing you get these each time you get hit and healed."

"It does not really hurt, my love, and it will be mostly gone by tomorrow morning. It is nothing to worry over."

She looked at him straight in the eye. "I've never… never _noticed_ your scars before. I'm sorry if I shouldn't have looked."

He shrugged. "They are nothing more than old wounds. They don't bother me."

He stilled when she lifted her right hand and lightly ran the tip of her fingers over the white marks on his skin. The story of his life of rage and pain was written down on his very flesh. She wondered where one should see the story of his life of goodness and generosity; his sacrifice of blood for his companions in arms was marked in his flesh too, she realized as she caressed the mark left by the minotaur's axe. But where was he left to show his kindness? His gentleness? Nothing in his size or muscled countenance hinted to it; it was not obvious in his guarded eyes. It was a side of him that he hid well.

"It shows something of your life," she declared at length, taking her hand away, "but it does not tell everything that you are."

She tried to find a better way to explain it, but she had no more words. She looked at him, hoping he would understand.

"That's true. I consider the scars of battle to be a small part of my experience. The scars of Grimash't's torture are a bit more painful to look at, but I have survived them, and I like to think that what I have done since is what really matters."

She looked at him with an unreadable look for a while. "I have scars too." She took a shaking breath. "I was stabbed in the abdomen a few times, and they tried to write something in my skin with knives. The priestesses managed to erase most of it, and what is really amazing is that I carried my son to term."

Valen was at a loss as to what to answer.

"It is strange," she went on. "A man with scars is said to have had a life of battles. A woman with scars is said to have marred skin."

"Only those who have never known battle subscribe to this vision of things, my love. I would not think that you have marred skin. I would think that you bear the mark of your battles."

She closed her eyes and sighed. "Thank you," she murmured.

He sat next to her on the bed and she let him draw her in for a hug. After a while she relaxed, and sat up so she could look at his back. Again she traced his old scars with feather-light touches of her fingertips. So many, and so deep; she knew how strong and determined he was, but seeing the marks of Grimash't's tortures, she had no trouble imagining that he had been in "no state" fit to fight his way out of the Abyss.

"I'm sorry for everything that's been done to you."

He half-turned to catch her hand. "It's alright. It's part of my past."

She still seemed sad. "Why must we live through all this pain to discover who we want to be?"

"I'm hardly one to debate philosophical matters, my love. I can only say that all our experiences shape our identity. It seems there are some things we must learn in pain."

She tilted her head. "Yes. Wisdom is not an easy thing to acquire, is it."

Right then Valen decided it was enough serious talk. The day had already been charged enough as it was. Brushing her hair back, he asked, "Are you ready now to sleep, my love?"

"We beat an arch-devil, and how are we going to celebrate? Sleeping!", she groaned moodily, but she moved to the other side of the bed to give Valen some space where to lie down.

He looked at her incredulously. "Is this what you are going to sleep in?", he asked, staring pointedly at the too-big priestess's robe that probably entailed two or three layers of underwear.

Blushing, she briefly averted her eyes. "I have a habit of sleeping with all my clothes on whenever I'm not alone. But I guess I can do an exception for you."

Standing up besides the bed, she timidly shed the overall robe. She twisted her arms in her back to untie the lace of the corset. Valen grimaced against himself at the sight of her slim shoulders popping out because of the unnatural move of her arms.

"Let me help you," he murmured. "Seeing your arms twist like that makes me gnash my teeth and gives me shivers."

She laughed. "Of course it does. You're so big you can't touch your elbows in your back."

"No I can't, but since it's not a move that will save me in battle, I'm not overly sad."

She fell quiet then as he gently untied her corset. He pulled it over her head and she was left standing in the linen underwear coming with the priestess robe.

"You can really sleep in a corset?", he asked to break the silence, lying back down with his arm away from his body.

She shrugged. "I suspect it must not be worse than armour."

She lay down slowly in the space between his chest and arm, and put her head down on his elbow. Stretching to the nightstand, Valen snuffed out the candle. As he had suspected, it is only in the darkness that Chama finally moved, rolling to snuggle in his side. He was grateful for the darkness that hid the silvery of his eyes. He hugged her gently and, deciding that small talk was not necessary anymore to put her at ease, he murmured, "Good night, my love."

She moved her head in the hollow of his shoulder. "Good night, Granduc."


	37. The Morning After

Chapter XXXVI. The morning after

Chama awoke to the feeling of Valen burying his face against the nape of her neck. She knew, from the heavy way he moved, that he was still fast asleep. It did not surprise her; as an elf, she needed less sleep than humans, and after decades in their company, she had grown used to waking up first and getting to bed last. It seemed that tieflings approached their human ancestry on that point.

While she slowly emerged from the land of reverie, she kept still, savouring the feel of Valen's massive bulk pressing against her back. With his forehead against her neck, his breath tickled down her neck. Now that his hot skin pressed against hers, she understood how his pointed ears could stand Cania's cold without freezing. Somewhere in the course of the night she had pushed the covers away, but Valen's proximity more than kept her warm.

It was tender to wake up in his arms, to be held, and to have slept so close to him. She wondered if he had calculated how the simple fact of sleeping peacefully, securely in his arms would put her at ease. Seeing how considerate he had always been with her – even before he knew everything about her past, he had instinctively known exactly when to stop his attentions not to make her uncomfortable – he probably had had an idea behind that red head of his.

The thought made her smile. Such a tall, big, inhumanely strong man, with a heart carved out of pure gold and a gentleness to put an elven bard to shame.

She so liked his contrasts.

And then she decided that she was done waiting for him to wake up and hold up his promises of the previous night. Turning in his arms, she giggled at the sight of his face – he was pouting and looked very young all of a sudden. She wiggled her way up until she could kiss him. He let out a sleepy groan, blinked one eye open, and then stretched all his considerable length, yawning expansively, before curling up around her again.

"'Morning," he mumbled.

"Sleepy head," she teased.

She waited while he rubbed his eyes and slowly slipped back to full wakefulness. Finally he looked at her again with a smile; the lightness in his gaze struck her. His clear eyes were now free of the constant torment of holding the demon back.

"You seem better this morning, my love," he said, examining the healthy colour of her skin and the faded circles under her eyes.

"You too, but you still have a few bruises." She lightly ran her hand over his chest. "Does it still hurt?"

He shrugged. "Not really. We should have a few days to recuperate now. And for once I have no urge to kill anything around me. I think I might actually be able to rest."

She grinned. "Rest? I think I remember you making a promise, yesterday night."

"On the contrary, my love. I made _no_ promises to be sober and demure this morning." For good measure, he ran his hand down her side.

"Exactly what I hoped for. If you will but excuse me a moment…"

She slid out of his arms lithely, and her slim waist twisted out of his grasp in a delicate show of lean muscles. She disappeared behind the screen in a corner of the room and washed her hands and face. When she was done, he went to freshen up in his turn.

When he came back, she was sitting on the bed and brushing her hair absently.

"Let me help you," he said, coming forward to take the brush from her hands.

"Oh, I'm done. But let me do something for _your _hair."

He lifted a dubious eyebrow, but sat on the edge of the bed with his back to her. She knelt behind him and untied his hair. She fanned it out with her hands.

"Men never care for their hair. You tied it wet yesterday, didn't you?"

"What does it matter?"

"It's all matted now. Let me see if I can do anything at all with it."

After that silence fell between them but for the sound of the strokes of the brush. She loosed the knots and smoothed the snarls, gently manoeuvring between his horns, observing curiously how the hair grew in circles around them.

Finally, she slid off the bed and stood before him to admire her work, artfully disposing his locks on each side of his face. Unexpectedly a sensuous sparkle lit in her eyes which shortened Valen's breathing.

"You're very attractive with your hair free like that."

She moved closer, and closer, and the sway of her hips nearly hypnotized him. Then she was so close she was standing between his knees, and she buried her hands in his hair to pull him up to his feet to kiss him.

After what she had told him of her only experience of physical intimacy, he expected a bit of timidity, not this passionate assault. Her hands ran over his shoulders and naked back, lining every muscle and fraying every nerve; her breasts pressed against his chest through the thin fabric of her night gown.

After a while he pulled back. His silvery blue eyes roamed all over her while he slowly pulled the gown over her head. She blushed and murmured, "I… but the scars…"

"I remember," he whispered. "But it doesn't matter. Remember how you once told me that people could be like a mirror to you? Let me look at you."

With a little reluctance she lifted her arms and he could finally remove her garment. Even though he had caught a glimpse of her in the mimic's maze, he had not expected the scars to be so bad – the priestesses were supposed to have erased much of them. His eyes did not shift, however, and he looked at her with a tender smile.

"They are but a measure of your strength. You are beautiful, my love."

She flung herself in his arms, and slowly he caressed her naked back. She smelled of that delicate perfume he could not quite place. She slowly relaxed, dissolving her perception of her body in his open appreciation of it. Her confidence grew with the feel of his skin against hers and his strong, callused hands so gentle against her skin.

He led her to the bed and pulled her down with him. He kissed and caressed her, his tail snaking up her thigh languidly. She started to timidly answer to his touch with caresses of her own that sent his blood coursing like wild fire in his veins… and suddenly there came a knock from the door.

She startled and he growled. "Ignore it," he grumbled. "He'll go away."

Then he started nuzzling her neck, but the unbelievably insistent knocking proved too much of a distraction.

Getting up angrily, Valen threw his tunic over his head. He looked back at Chama, lying on her back with an amused air on her face. Watching her, sprawled on the bed with her bare breasts exposed shamelessly, he reflected there was no way he could ever control the colour of his eyes now.

"Just give me a second," he ground out.

She stretched languidly and shrugged. Brusquely he turned to the door and opened with his worst-tempered look – the look that made drow matron mothers flatten themselves against the wall and quelled the most vicious of abysmal troops.

"What do you want?", he snarled.

ooooo

Halikouelle's hand shook slightly when he lifted it to knock on the door. So much emotion constricted around his chest that he could barely breathe. But he had not come all this way only to stare at her door and leave out of… what? Fear? Uncertainty?

He knocked. There was no answer, and neither could he hear steps within. Nevertheless, he had been given precise directions to her room, and an elven hunter did not lose his way in a maze-like forest, much less in an inn. The loud-spoken human across the street had also informed him that she was supposed to be in her room at the moment. So Halikouelle knocked again; he had not come all this way only to knock at her door, receive no answer and go back the other way without even seeing her.

He knocked insistently for what felt like eternity, until at last he heard movement in the room. Maybe she had been sleeping. He stopped knocking.

When the door opened, he found himself staring straight at a very massive man's chest. His eyes shot up quickly to a horned man's face and furious glare.

Halikouelle gaped in surprise at the man towering above him, red hair falling on each side of his face like a river of abysmal fire. The elf could see himself, tiny and distorted, reflected in the tiefling's impenetrable silver regard.

"What do you want?", the horned beast snarled, his voice deep and rough.

His hand on the side of the door was impressively massive, with strong square fingers. Halikouelle took a hasty step back, intimidated by the tiefling's angry countenance.

"Forgive me, sir, I must be mistaken. I was told this was Chamaedaphne Indiwasi's room."

The tiefling surreptitiously scanned the corridor from left to right, obviously checking for signs of ambush. The elf had pronounced Chama's name with the elven accent: it sounded like Shama-ey-dathney, and it was much softer than the "Chama" Valen used.

"Again," Halikouelle tried, "forgive me for my mistake. Maybe you know in which room she resides?"

Valen stared back at the elf standing before him then. He was old, but his hands were still steady and his eyes quick. He wore simple woodsman's clothes, and a much-used but well-cared-for long bow was slung on his shoulder, with a quiver of arrows hung at his belt.

"Who are you?", Valen asked, less bad-tempered this time.

"My name is Halikouelle Roscoffense."

Valen paused. "Forgive me if I seem ill-mannered, but much has befallen us lately, and I am wary of strangers. What do you want with Chama?"

"I am her father."

At that the tiefling's eyes flashed a very clear and cold blue, the colour of the ice-water melting out of the glaciers high up in the mountains. "I will tell her of your presence. Please wait just an instant."

The door shut right under Halikouelle's nose before he even had the time to agree. His elven ears, though, heard something inside now. The heavy steps of the tiefling crossing the room. Then, a feminine voice he could not readily identify, muffled through the door, saying, "I see you really were determined to fight off anything keeping you away from me…"

Halikouelle blushed and stepped away from the door, pointedly listening to the sounds of the kitchen downstairs, and the merry soldiers drinking and singing to the end of Waterdeep's isolation.

After a while, the door opened again, the tiefling filling the doorway. He bowed his head lightly to Halikouelle and stepped out of the room. Behind him, hidden by his bulk, Chamaedaphne appeared.

Halikouelle had not seen her for centuries. She had changed much. She had aged, metamorphosing from a scrawny child to a female elf in her strongest years. She had gained weight, both muscles and feminine curves. What was changed the most, however, was the look in her eyes; from the silly laughter of a child, he had seen them transform into amorphous pits of denial. Now, there was experience in those eyes, pain and sorrow, yes, but happiness too, and healthy pride.

Even though she wore a robe of great magical power and was an elf in the prime of life, Halikouelle could easily recognize his terrified child underneath. The first words were his to say, he realized. She stared at him, unsure, seemingly not daring to move.

"I… got your letter," he began. His voice broke from the emotion and he paused to gather his composure. "I didn't know how to answer, and I thought it would be better if I came in person. I am old now, and the road to Hilltop has been long. You had gone, the mayor assistant informed me, to Waterdeep… I have been waiting at the closed gates for weeks now. I came in this morning as soon as the doors opened."

"You… you came to see me?"

Halikouelle could recognize the hesitant tone of his daughter from before she left. He smiled sadly.

"I searched for you for decades, Chamae. Of course I hit the road as soon as I got your letter."

Seeing both elves staring at each other, unsure, Valen took Chama's shoulder and gently pushed her. He grinned like an idiot when she stumbled a step forward and Halikouelle opened his arms. She took the remaining step on her own and hugged her father tight. She exclaimed in the elven tongue, "Dad! I can't believe you're here!"

She began crying on her father's shoulder, and Halikouelle hugged her hard. Valen chuckled, a quiet rumble low in his chest, and he headed down the corridor. They would be fine without him now.

"Chamae, when I received your letter… I had thought you dead for so long… I can barely believe I've been given to see you again!"

Chama pulled out of her father's embrace.

"I'm sorry." Just being able to tell him she regretted what she had done already made her feel better. "I'm sorry I let you believe I was dead. Will you… will you come in? I'd like to know what's been happening to you, and to Saarelmith…"

"And I'd like to know what you've done during all this time!"

A shadow crossed Chama's face. "I owe you an explanation."

The door closed on father and daughter, and Chama explained to her father everything she had done, much like she had explained it to Valen before. Her father's eyes were not as imperturbable as those of Valen though, and sometimes she caught glimpses of pain, anger and even fear in his eyes. But it was never enough to smother the love underneath.

And eventually Chama concluded her story, telling the finding of the Reaper's True Name, the escape from the Hells and the battle with Mephistopheles there in Waterdeep. She watched her father uncertainly, afraid of his reaction to what she had admitted of doing. But her most recent deed seemed to have compensated for the misguided faults of her past in Halikouelle's opinion, and he gaped at her proudly and lovingly. Her father's forgiveness lifted a few hundred tons from her shoulders. She had never realized how heavy the past had pressed on her.

But with a father's characteristic tact, or lack thereof, Halikouelle cleared his throat and inquired nothing about the battle or the trip through Hell. What he inquired about was an entirely unrelated subject.

"This… man that answered me… is he this Valen you speak about?"

A radiant smile flourished on her lips. "Yes, that's Valen. I'm sorry about not introducing the two of you earlier; I was too surprised by your presence, I forgot my manners. Valen and I have been travelling together for a while, as you know from my story. We've been comrades-in-arms since the Underdark."

Halikouelle pointedly stared at his daughter. "So he is your bodyguard?"

"We're adventuring together. He goes in first and I throw spells in when he requires assistance."

Halikouelle cleared his throat again. "Is this why he was in your room so early in the morning?"

Chama blushed furiously but nevertheless glared at him. "Why shouldn't he be here in the morning? I've slept twelve hours in a row last night, so it didn't feel all that early, and besides, we're adventuring together, remember? We spend a lot of time in each other's company."

Halikouelle tried to school his features into a mask of scowling concern for his daughter's safety, but faced with the familiar scene she made whenever someone told her what to do, he could not help but smile.

"You don't have to be defensive, Chamae, you're old enough to know. It's just that, as your father, I cannot help but ask you these questions forever."

She relented. "All right then. Let's introduce the two of you. Maybe you'll even like him, who knows."


	38. Zealous Chaperon

_Sorry for taking so long. See, I worked like crazy because I was supposed to finish my MSc on the 4__th__ of January, but it turns out it won't happen . So I can breathe (and write) again. Updates should be relatively more regular now. I hope._

_Thanks for sticking around despite the delays! Leaving a review or two as encouragement would be much appreciated :)_

Chapter XXXVII. Zealous chaperon

When father and daughter exited the room, Valen was standing guard in the corridor, fully armoured, and looked even more intimidating to Halikouelle's eyes. With an apologetic look on his face, he extended a piece of parchment to Chama. Sadness covered Chamae's face, as she obviously already knew what the message would be.

"Aribeth and Somnus left early this morning," Valen announced. "Aribeth felt she must return to Neverwinter; despite your command, she still desires to atone for her actions. Somnus follows her until she accompanies him to Elysium."

Sighing, Chama took the parchment and read the short note. "I guess all is as well as it could be… I just hope the people of Neverwinter will welcome Ari back, instead of executing her again… if it is at all possible to execute a spirit."

"With a planetar by her side, I think she is relatively safe," Valen remarked.

Chama nodded wearily. His eyes darting back and forth between the two, Halikouelle battled a strong sense of disbelief; even though Chamae had told him of her adventures, it still was a lot to take in at once. Neverwinter had named Chamae its Hero; she had been sent to Hell and fought her way out; she had found an angel frozen in the Eighth and brought him to the Prime along with the lost soul of Aribeth de Tylmarande.

Halikouelle was startled out of his thoughts by Valen clearing his throat. The tiefling briefly glanced his way before staring resolutely at his daughter. "What do we do now, my lady?"

Valen's return to the use of "my lady" over "my love" did not escape Chama. It made her smile that the tiefling weapon master, who so efficiently terrified enemies on the battlefield, was still intimidated by his would-be father-in-law.

But her smile faded when Valen's question registered in her mind, and she shrugged uneasily. "What's left to do? I didn't hear about any widow and orphans needing rescuing. Any ideas?"

Hesitantly she looked at her father. Cautiously, he suggested, "Chamae… you have been away for so long… Wouldn't you like to come back home? So you can live as an elf again."

An intense look in her eyes, she stared at him. The moment was broken when she turned to Valen, standing silently by her side. "What about you? What are your plans?"

The tiefling rubbed the back of his neck uncomfortably. "Well, my lady…" He paused to choose his words carefully. Halikouelle listened intently, unable to contain a suspicious glare. "I would not part company with you if given the choice," Valen began carefully. "It has been good to adventure with you. However, I will understand if I am unwelcome in elven lands. Moreover, my duty to the Seer commands that I find out whether or not she really escaped Mephistopheles in the Underdark."

"Not to mention Nathyrra, Imloth and, most importantly, Deekin."

As expected, Valen's face turned into a sour grimace. During their time in Hell, his mind had been focused solely on his own survival and on Chama's safety. He had thought back about the Seer when her memory brought him strength in those circumstances that reminded him of the Abyss, but otherwise he had completely and happily forgotten about the kobold bard. "I am not _that_ curious about Deekin's fate," he growled ungracefully.

His beloved smiled impishly at him. "Still not seduced by the Doom song?"

He ground his teeth so hard that she could actually hear it. "Most certainly not. I will _never_ be seduced by a kobold's songs. Whoever the kobold is and whatever the song says."

Grinning, Chama turned to her father. "I would love to go back… _home_… and see the forest again… I have missed the streams and the trees and the hills. But first I must get news of some friends. I want to check with Durnan about Daelan and his three companions, and then we have to find the Seer's settlement on the surface. Hopefully everyone will be alive and well… If not, we'll have to journey back to Hell to twist Mephistopheles' horns a bit more. I also need to make a quick visit to Neverwinter… Aarin Gend deserves my thanks." Then she grimaced. "And my apologies too, come to think of it. And after it is all taken care of, then I'd like to go home. Sleep for days on end. Not get any of my bones broken for a whole tenday. And not wear my ring nor my circlet for a full month. That would be nice. So, Father… do you prefer going back to Saarelmith to wait for me – for us – or do you wish to come along?"

In that instant, Chamae broke Halikouelle's impression of a frightened daughter, and he smiled slowly. His laughing child had turned into a very directive lady. Such will she showed… her mother would have been proud. He smiled, despite the sadness held within that memory.

"I will follow you, if you will accept my company," he said.

She touched her father's arm tentatively. "I'd be glad to have you join us."

He put his hand on hers. "I will be honoured to travel in your company and meet those that have been a part of your life in the last years."

Valen cleared his throat, and extended a hand to Halikouelle. The elf took it and they exchanged a handshake; the elf's slim hand had a firm grip. "We were not introduced formally, but I assume Chama told you something of me. Valen Shadowbreath."

"You are quite confident of your own importance to my daughter, aren't you?", Halikouelle snarled.

While Valen was merely stunned into unblinking surprise by this sudden animosity, Chama's cheeks flushed with anger. This suddenly reminded Valen of reality and he laid a gentle but firmly restraining hand on Chama's arm. She inspired sharply and Valen had to enforce his calming efforts with a stern gaze.

"I am quite sure that she would care to tell you my name, yes," Valen answered flatly. "I will be honoured also to travel in your company, sir."

The perfectly civil answer of the tiefling flustered Halikouelle well, and it alleviated much of Chama's bad mood. Muttering something about gathering his things, Halikouelle headed downstairs.

Valen watched him go with a sigh; he should have expected that, he supposed. What sane father would be happy to see a tiefling answer his daughter's door so early in the morning? Nevertheless, he hoped that Halikouelle's misgivings could be disarmed over time.

Intent on distracting Chama from her earlier anger, he took her hand and kissed it with a mischievous smile.

"Shall I ask your father's permission to court you yet, my lady?"

She grimaced. "I think it would be best if we waited a little while."

Valen nodded resignedly. No more kissing or holding his lady's hand for a while, it seemed.

ooooo

They learned from Durnan that Daelan had gone back to the Red Tiger tribe, intent on finally accepting his place as elder among them. Naturally Tomi had fled Waterdeep – more specifically the very Yawning Portal – in some fierce hurry, the city guard hot at his heels, mere hours ahead of talk of stolen cutlery. Linu had started her journey back to Evereska and Chama could not help but wince at the dozen scenarios of possible disasters her imagination readily came up with. Sharwyn had left Waterdeep just after Chama had left Halaster's Undermountain for the Underdark, all excited over news that the king of Cormyr himself had heard her newest ballad and personally requested her presence at his court. After leaving letters for each of them with Durnan and telling him to send the correspondence over to her father's home, Chama, Halikouelle and Valen departed for the Seer's settlement on the surface, the very one Valen had discovered after long years of search when first out of the Abyss.

The journey announced to be uneventful. Twice they were ambushed by groups of vulgar highwaymen, who quickly backed down. There were the warning shots of stunning accuracy by Halikouelle, the way Chama's hands worriedly lighted with fierce magical energy, and the very intimidating tiefling who surveyed them with blazing red eyes.

Despite his nearly constant watch, Halikouelle never surprised anything untoward between his daughter and the tiefling.

ooooo

After a few days riding in the countryside, Valen allowed himself to get lost in his thoughts, implicitly trusting the elves to watch the path for him just like Nathyrra or Chama had always done for him. His thoughts contemplated exactly when he would have more than two seconds in private with Chama outside of Halikouelle's keen hearing range, so he could ask her again if he should request her father's permission to court her. Maybe he should plainly ignore Halikouelle and act with Chama as he had around Aribeth. It was torture to carefully avoid any gaze her way or any brush of fingers.

Truth be told, he had been daydreaming since the moment they passed Waterdeep's gates. He was lost in the privacy of his mind, very grateful that no one could pierce it, hoping that once in Neverwinter they would take rooms at an inn, and that maybe he would be able to at least hold Chama close and steal a kiss without her father pointedly watching them. He carefully stopped his thoughts from progressing further along those lines, since such fantasies proved very uncomfortable while right under Halikouelle's constant scrutiny.

And suddenly his daydreams came crashing down on his head.

An ambush. A stupid ambush. And he had failed to detect it and keep Chama safe. The attackers were a large band, more than twelve of them, and those thugs would not be scared away by a red glare. They wore dark leather and magically gleaming swords or crossbows; their ranks included a priest, a mage and a few thieves who vanished in the deep shadows of the underbrush.

Valen swung down from his horse with a curse.

"Show yourselves!", he screamed, enraged, trying to attract their attention.

The ambushers, all neatly lined up on the road, bended their bow in unison. Valen danced aside and the arrows whizzed past him or glanced off his armour. Halikouelle set his horse in movement with his feet, rose in his stirrups and started shooting around. Chama began a premonition spell, and Valen felt incredibly grateful that at least he did not have to focus on himself the hits intended for her in addition to those for Halikouelle.

The first of the fighters sprang from the underbrush and launched himself at Valen. The tiefling swung him aside with a hit of his flail, the metal head of the weapon crushing the man's skull. He collapsed on the ground in convulsions.

An arrow whistled just past the hindquarters of Halikouelle's horse, and someone in the dense scrubs bellowed an order.

"Don't kill the horses!"

The horses, especially Halikouelle's elven steed, were worth too much to be slaughtered in an ambush.

While Valen bellowed challenges to distract the enemy and Halikouelle pinned them down with well-placed arrows, Chama unleashed a volley of magical globes of energy. All around through the bushes, the muffled sound of sickening impact could be heard, followed by dying gurgles or pained screams.

Valen stood in the middle of the path like death incarnate, fending off most of the bandits by himself, spinning and striking. Halikouelle took out thieves he guessed out of the shadows with his keen elven eyes while Chama rained destruction on their ambushers. The forest lit with fire all around as maximized fireballs splashed flames everywhere, only to be crushed down, trees, bandits, shrubs and fire altogether, by boulders of ice falling from the sky.

And suddenly, a thief managed to slip past Halikouelle's vigilance and grabbed his ankle as he cantered past; Halikouelle was thrown off the horse, his leg throbbing painfully. His beloved elven bow broke when both crashed to the ground, and pain exploded in his hand as he twisted his fingers between the arrow he still held and the weight of his body. He screamed and rolled to the ground in pain for a brief moment. Fighting off the need to throw up, he straightened and brought his left hand to his long dagger. But the thief was already on him and, snatching the elf's dagger, he put a knife to his throat. Halikouelle froze.

He could do no more than watch helplessly, a knife to his throat and a hand pulling roughly at his hair. His eyes darted between Valen and Chama, fighting together with deadly teamwork. Despite his dire predicament, Halikouelle felt his heart swell with pride at the impressive power of all the spells Chama cast. She did not waste a spell on a near-dead opponent, rather leaving them to be finished off by Valen. She obviously had the experience of countless skirmishes such as this one; she knew which spells use at what moment.

Valen was also a glory to look at, but in a different domain. Halikouelle had never seen someone so quick and brutally strong at the same time; he hit true every time, all the while dodging or parrying every hit directed his way, even though he faced ten men all by himself. Moreover, Halikouelle could see that he provided cover Chama, and he was much more successful at it than anyone had a right to ask a single man on foot trying to protect a lone rider sitting unmoving atop a frozen horse.

Chama cast frantically; she had started with spells affecting large areas of terrain to seriously impair the enemy until Valen could hold them off. Now, however, she started to cast a True Sight, to see if any hidden danger remained on the battlefield.

And just as she reached the precise middle of her incantation, someone grabbed her wrist and violently threw her off her horse. She broke her incantation off brusquely. She did not even cry out in pain when she hit the ground, the bitterness of defeat stuck sideways in her throat. Before she could get her bearings, ungentle hands grabbed her and hauled her up. She tried to squirm away, but was not strong enough. Her back was pressed against the hard leather of armour covering a body that reeked of sweat, oiled leather and unwashed male. One hand brought a short sword up to her neck, while the other grabbed her around the waist, pulling her rudely against the man's chest.

Instantly the world stopped to exist for her. Panic flooded through her like the unstoppable force of a river that has broken its dam. She stopped breathing altogether, her heart hammering wildly inside her ribcage, her knees buckling in fear. Images in black and red of rain falling peacefully outside a foul cave and rough hands tearing her clothes apart rushed back in her mind. Every muscle in her being went painfully stiff.

Reality rushed back in when the chest behind her suddenly resonated with a deep and powerful voice, "Stop it or the bitch dies!"

Dimly she realized that the man that had grabbed her must be the leader and that he was talking to Valen. A heap of bodies, only a few of them still stirring, lay at the tiefling's feet. He stopped dead when he saw her.

"Let her go," he demanded.

"I don't think so," the leader retorted viciously. "Drop your weapon and I'll consider it."

Valen watched Chama, her skin ashen and her eyes wide with terror. He could only understand her fear because she had told him what had been done to her; she had faced Mephistopheles himself head-on and without an ounce of fear, but being held captive by an overpowering man was the one thing in the world that could make her lose control.

_Stoneskin, my love,_ he thought desperately. _Just stoneskin and burn him to ashes._

With Valen looking into her eyes, his clear blue eyes rooting her in reality, Chama found that she could breathe again. Air rushed into her lungs in a fiery flow that consumed every inch of her body.

"Let her go," Valen repeated slowly. _Just stoneskin, _he prayed,_ just stoneskin_.

She could swallow too, now.

"I said drop your weapons. Now," the bandit repeated

Valen stared into her eyes with a fierce intensity that she had never seen before. His eyes turned to pitch black. And he said the only words that could break her from her trance-like state.

"Let her go. Take me instead of her."

Chama closed her eyes, taking refuge in a sanctuary within herself. Thankfully she had spent enough time studying spellcraft that she could cast low-level spells instantly without need for preparation. Forcefully taking another breath, she suddenly uttered a single word of power. Fire blossomed in her chest and coursed down her arm. She pointed her hand to the ground at her feet and the fireball exploded violently almost as soon as it left her fingertips. Flames erupted from the ground to lick up her body and that of the one holding her. A shower of sparkles and embers quickly followed suit.

There was an agonizing cry of pain, and suddenly she was free. She was still very much shaken up by finding herself at the mercy of a man that had reminded her in so many ways of the thug in the cave. Moreover, even if she wore the ring of Elemental Defence, the fire had blistered her and burned a few of her hairs. So she did not immediately notice that her enemy was not dead yet.

"Die, bitch!"

When she turned in automatism, even before alarm or surprise could spring to her mind, she felt a sharp pain in her abdomen. Looking down, she saw the sword that entered on one side of her body and had no doubt protruded on the other.

Very calmly and very slowly, as though she had all the time in the world, she unsheathed Enserric. In the same arc that cleared the sword from the scabbard, the sharp edge of the blade slit across the man's throat. She looked at the thug's eyes widening, and a sputter of blood spilled from his lips. Then an arrow hit him in the neck, and the head of a heavy flail collided with the perfect middle of his chest in an upward strike. Chama watched in morbid fascination while his body was lifted from the ground, and the arrow knocked his head to one side. The limp body flew very slowly before her very eyes, drops of blood spraying from his wound in the air as he sailed backwards in the air.

And then he hit the ground and reality resumed for the second time. Chama became aware of Valen, his armoured form close to her back. He spun around, his flail's head swishing a hair breadth above her head, and she heard his weapon connect with another chest in a crunch of bones. The battle had moved closer to her. She looked over to see her father bleeding from a wound just under his jaw, but the dagger had missed his throat. The remaining men fought off Valen, but her mind felt empty of everything, including spells.

Reality fled away again, and she slowly fell backwards, her knees giving way, until she collapsed on her back on the scorched grass, still burning hot like embers from what was left of her fireball.


	39. Identity Crisis

Chapter XXXVIII. Identity Crisis

The wicked short sword sliced into Chama's side. Valen saw red and the loud roar of the drums of the Blood Wars exploded in his ears. He did not know how he crossed the clearing to where Chama had been held by the bandits' leader, but there he was. Channelling all his strength in one mighty sweep of his flail, he sent him flying.

Becoming one with his flail, he broke into a whirlwind attack. Incredulity and shocking fear widened his assailants' eyes; they had never met such a storm of fury in any of their ambushes.

Valen spun, his arms and legs a perfect counterbalance to each other. In the mindless rage that had blossomed inside of him, he saw nothing but defences and openings; he heard nothing but the shuffling of feet, the grunts of effort or pain and the cracking of bones; he smelled nothing but warm blood and exposed sinew; he felt nothing but the rapture of incoherent fury.

He killed. With brutal hits to the skull and chest, after he had slowed them by breaking arms, shoulders and legs. Bone popped and blood spilled, saturating his senses.

Soon he was alone on his feet, covered in the familiar gore of battle, glaring down at the heap of bodies that had been his opponents. His jaw still clinched and his breath short, he brusquely whirled around. Chama lay on the ground, her eyes closed and her breathing shallow. Taking her by the arms, he roughly pulled her to a sitting position.

And then she opened her calm velvety black eyes and gently cupped his cheek in the palm of her delicate hand. He came back to his senses with a flinch, the euphoria and rage of battle vanished. His hold of her arms must be painful.

He let go of her abruptly, shutting his eyes and turning away. Was he not supposed to be free of the taint? How then could he turn to such a snarling demon without even being consciously aware of it? A huge lump rose in his throat and strangled him. The beast was not only in the taint; it was in his also. He really was the beast he had always denied being. Before he could scramble away to be sick and cry over his misery, Chama seized one of his horns gently and stopped him.

"Valen, wait," she said kindly. "Aren't you going to check if I'm alright?"

He whirled back around looking to the sword wound, then up at her arms, and his hands stopped of their own volition before he touched her.

"Did I… did I hurt you?", he asked. He hoped she couldn't see him trembling.

"What do you think, you brute!", Halikouelle suddenly spoke up. He had picked up one of their ambushers' short bows and steadily aimed an arrow at Valen's neck, in spite of his twisted and bloodied fingers. "Of course you hurt her, gripping her like that!"

"Father," Chama warned, "stay out of this." Then she turned back to Valen. "No, Granduc, you didn't hurt me. You were just a bit rougher than usual."

The tiefling blushed, embarrassed by her forgiveness he did not deserve and her father's eyes on him. "I'm sorry. I – I didn't mean – I was caught by surprise – I didn't expect…"

She hushed him. "Because I removed your taint? You didn't expect the demon to surface again?"

He nodded wordlessly, avoiding her eyes. Her gentle fingers caressed his cheek, miraculously easing the torment of guilt in his heart. She rose on her knees to capture his gaze, and he closed his eyes against the tears.

"Granduc, listen to me. And look at your mirror, please. I love you, Valen, and I loved you before you were freed of the taint; I accept you as you are, demon half included. I would never use your True Name against you. Neither would I use it in a way that would alter your identity. Valen, your infernal part made you who you are. It forced you to define yourself in part in opposition to it. It ironed your will and your determination, because you fought against it constantly. It makes you loyal, because you don't want to swear allegiance falsely as a devil would. The power of your True Name did not erase the demon from you, just his taint. He is still in you, but cannot oppose you for control anymore. I did not want to change you; I just tried to give you peace of mind. You deserve – you _earned_ it. I made you your own master, but without losing you – without losing the man I love."

The miracle of her touch calmed him further with each sentence, but the lump in his throat stubbornly refused to go away. He never had trouble not crying before. Maybe this was also a consequence of being free of the demon?

"I-I'm sorry I wasn't vigilant," he stammered, "I didn't…"

"It's all right," she hushed him quietly. "You'll know to be on guard in delicate situations from now on. Can you assist me with my wound now?"

"Chamae, why don't you let me help you…", Halikouelle proposed forcefully as he stepped forward, but was halted by his daughter's cold glare.

"I have already asked Valen, and he will do just fine. Now turn away, please, so I can disrobe."

Halikouelle's mouth worked soundlessly for a moment. "Chamae…"

"Turn away," she repeated stonily.

With a look of protestation still on his face, he turned his back on them. Chama slipped the Robe of Balpheron off her shoulders down to her waist, and Valen pressed a hand to her side, covering the wound and trying to stop the blood. He remembered how he had done so for Nathyrra once. His heart had not wrenched at the sight of the pouring blood then. Oh, he had been worried and happy to see that Chama could save her, but his brow had not been knot in concern and his eyes had not been overcast with grey.

Chama was a competent healer however, and soon he was holding a pungent-smelling cloth to her side. Gradually, the blood stopped and the skin stitched itself together with magical speed. Heaving a sigh of relief, Valen slowly cleaned the blood off her stomach with a corner of his cape, allowing his hands to gently caress her bare skin. She blushed, shooting an uncomfortable look towards her father's turned back. Understanding her silent plea, Valen smiled and gently pulled her robe back up, but nevertheless took his time to fasten the many buttons of the bodice.

Valen removed his cape and stretched it on the ground next to Chama. She looked at him questioningly when he briefly lifted her, but she let him put her down on the cape and roll it around her. Closing her eyes, she buried her head in the warm cape. The smell of metal, rust, leather and beeswax nearly swallowed Valen's own smell. Feeling safe and suddenly warm, with the rush of adrenaline from the battle and the pain finally fading, she fell asleep the very moment she buried her head in Valen's cape.

ooooo

At the sound of Valen's armour creaking, signifying the massive tiefling straightening up, Halikouelle swiftly turned to watch over his daughter. The tall warrior lifted her gently, and she leaned against his chest with complete trust. Watching the pair with a frown of concern, Halikouelle reflected that he would have to speak with her. Surely she should know a tiefling was not safe company?

"I think it would be best to find a place nearby where to set camp. She's already asleep," the tiefling whispered. His thoughtful attempt not to disturb Chama seemed quite out of place with his grim countenance.

With a curt nod, Halikouelle called the horses. Still skittish from the battle, they nevertheless obeyed the ranger's command. He took a few seconds to strike their coats soothingly before leading them onwards on the road. He threw a look over his shoulder at the bandits he left behind, but felt no guilt over it. Mother Nature would put them to good use, and he was inclined to think it would be more beneficial than the unsavoury accomplishments of these thugs' lifetimes.

A few hundred yards further, Halikouelle spotted a flat hilltop between the trees on their right. He led the horses down the road and up the hill, Valen carrying Chama in tow. At the top sat a circle of glass with a fire pit; a simple stop for weary travellers on the long road. Valen gently put Chama down on the grass and the two men silently busied themselves setting up camp. As soon as it was done, Valen went back to Chama's side and lifted her in his arms again, forcibly beating Halikouelle to it.

She startled, but Valen hushed her. "Do not worry, my lady. I am merely carrying you to safety." Calmed by the sound of his voice, she relaxed against his chest and let him carry her to the tent. He tucked her in her bedroll with gentle attention, and then straightened to watch her for a moment, ignoring Halikouelle's glare searing holes in the back of his skull.

Halikouelle and Valen were both experienced enough with travelling to know how to split the watch; one encompassing what was left of the afternoon and lasting into late evening, and the other one spanning the night. Then Chama would probably take up a short watch in early morning.

"I can take the first watch," Valen proposed. His voice was calm but tired, Halikouelle reflected, as though _he_ was the one recuperating from a trying ordeal.

"It's all right," Halikouelle countered. "Elves do not require much sleep. I'll take the two watches."

Something flickered briefly in the tiefling's harsh eyes; he knew he was not trusted. However, Halikouelle could not determine what he had seen in the other's gaze: regret, hurt, anger? Eventually Valen shrugged and turned away, slipping inside Chamae's tent.

Halikouelle belatedly realized that there was a tiefling alone in the tent with his daughter, because of his own actions. Grinding his teeth in frustration, he turned his back on the tent and surveyed the surroundings, carefully listening to the sounds coming from the tent. However, a nagging thought kept distracting him: the way Valen had very tenderly reassured his daughter when he had startled her. He had not expected a half-demon to show so much feeling. It must be one of the rare moments that his infernal half did not taint.

ooooo

A few hours after sundown, Valen got up and offered to replace Halikouelle, but of course the elf refused. So despite his grievances, Valen went back to sleep; he might as well rest while he could. Halikouelle only consented to be relieved when Chama herself woke up, three hours before sunrise, and assured him she was fine to stand watch. They set off again early morning, and covered a good distance that day. While they set camp the next evening, Halikouelle seized an opportunity to send Valen away to gather and cut wood alone. Chama rolled her eyes at her father; she knew quite well why she was suddenly alone with him as though from coincidence. Her fists on her hips, she pointedly stared at her father while they both waited for Valen to get out of earshot.

"Chamae, I think I need to tell you a few things about tieflings."

"Oh, _really_. And what would your enlightened teachings be?"

He did not like her sarcastic tone. "Don't mock me, Chamae. I've seen you act around him yesterday. I've heard you say that you love him. Do you know what he is?"

"No, I wouldn't know _what_ he is – tieflings are out of my area of expertise after all. You see, I rather specialize in full-blooded tanar'ri. Although I was recently forced to take extra curriculum in devilkin." She sighed loudly. "Father, I'm a wizard. A _summoning_ specialist. I know everything there is to know about tanar'ri. What I know even better, however, is _who_ Valen is. And I would much prefer to answer _that_ question."

"Have you forgotten that he is part demon?"

Steely determination suddenly appeared in Chamae's eyes.

"No," she stated with cold fury.

"I worry for you, my dear," Halikouelle appealed. "Do you know what a demon is capable of? How can you trust him to stand guard over you? How can you let him tend to your wounds and see your blood? He is a son of chaos! Maybe he fights against it, for which he is to be commended, but he still can turn on you at any moment. Chamae… after… after what happened to you… how can you let him… let him touch you? He could do worse to you. Even if it was not of his own free will, it could still happen."

Chama closed her eyes for a moment.

"How dare you remind me of what happened?", she began. "Do you hope that I will never enjoy a male's touch?"

"No, of course not! I simply meant that you could surely you find one who…"

"There is hardly a moment when I don't remember all of my past at once," she interrupted him. "Maybe I should try and explain to you what makes me peaceful enough to live with myself despite what has been done to me and what I have done myself. Valen is there in many ways, both in important events that help you change and define yourself, and in soothing little details of everyday life. But he deserves better than to be explained like this to you and exposed to your judgement. How dare you judge him so? Are you so perfect yourself? You don't know him. You don't know what his life has been like, what has been done to him, what he overcame, all the battles he fought, or what he has done for me. I shouldn't need to name his sacrifices for you to accept him. Why do you choose to look at the demon part of him? Why can't you see the human part, the part which fights and feels and loves and suffers?"

"Is it the human part that bruised your arms yesterday?" Halikouelle countered gently. Would she ever see the danger she was putting herself in?

"No; but it is the human part who worried for me and let the demon back in. Besides, why do you only worry about me? Maybe he's the one you should be concerned for – after all, my presence is an occasion for the demon to resurface. Maybe I am the danger, not him. Maybe he should worry that I will never accept him and never truly love him, because of what males have done to me in the past. Maybe I am only pain and torment to him."

"Well, it could be that you are not meant to be together…"

She took a breath before she spoke. "As a matter of fact, I'm rather convinced you did not give _him_ any thought when you declared that. Look, I love him. Because he is a man of many commendable qualities that I won't enumerate for your judgement. He deserves better than that. I know him; I know, even better than you think you do, what are tieflings. And still I love him."

"Maybe with time you'll realize…", Halikouelle tried again.

"That's enough," she declared flatly.

Halikouelle blinked, and then suddenly flushed in anger. "You won't talk to your father in that tone!"

"Won't I?", she responded calmly. "I am not a four decades-old child anymore. I am forty-three now. I am old enough to know what I'm doing and to choose my own path. I won't stand for the way you treat and judge Valen. Has it occurred to you that he went to Hell and back for me? And all the while in Baator, he always resisted the call of the Blood Wars. A man of that strength of will earned your respect, Father."

"It's not a question of respect," he shot back. "He can't help it! I don't want to spend the rest of my days wondering if you'll get torn apart in your sleep."

"Valen would never do that."

"But are you blind? Have you perchance missed the horns and tail? He is part _demon_, for Corellon's sake!"

Chama's features hardened. "I am aware of that, and it changes nothing. I will stop talking to you now before either of us starts saying things we'll regret."

Halikouelle sighed and shook his head. "All right, all right. We'll talk again later when you've calmed down."

Chama turned on her heel and disappeared in the bushes. Halikouelle shook his head again; he had not meant to push her into the tiefling's waiting arms. He listened with ranger ears at her noisy advance through the underbrush until she stopped abruptly. Straining his keen ears, he could barely make out their words…


	40. Waiting Arms

_So… I've been gone a good long time and I know this looks like I abandoned this fic, but I swear I didn't. Excuses, I know, but I just handed in my .'s thesis, and I moved to a new apartment the day before I took a plane to France for three months, so I've been busy in addition to playing WAY too much World of Warcraft. Thankfully there is no WoW here in France, so I'm back to playing Icewind Dale and, old IE engines being in my hobbies, it helps bring back the feeling to similar fan fiction. So I should get back to the chapter-a-week rhythm for a while._

_Hang on in there. This story will see its end; Chama deserves it!_

Chapter XXXIX. Waiting arms

Chama found Valen nearby, bare-chested and sweating as he split firewood with their small camp axe. He stopped mid-swing when Chama came into view.

"Ah, my lady," he started happily. Then he caught sight of the expression on her face and paused. Before he even had the time to ask what was wrong, she marched straight up to him.

"Can you just hold me now?"

Without a thought, he let the axe fall down and gathered her in his arms. She went limp against him and, following her move, he sank to the forest floor with his back against the nearest fallen tree. As though utterly exhausted, Chama silently lay against him.

"What's wrong?"

She snorted. "Father felt like he ought to have his fatherly speech with me just now."

In spite of himself, Valen stiffened. Despite how complete his life felt since they had declared their feelings for each other, some small part of him still occasionally wondered if it would turn out well. After all, his only previous love story had been nothing less than a tragedy, and sometimes against all emotions and logic he found himself doubting. So his answer was an uncertain, "I see."

"He said… he said things that hurt. I had hoped he respected you more than that."

Idly playing in her hair, Valen sighed. "I don't think he disrespects me, Chama. He is merely worried about you."

"And how can he suspect you of being dangerous without lacking respect to you?"

"He must think I'm not in perfect control of myself, that I can't help it sometimes. Chama… he's not entirely wrong, you know."

Pushing off him angrily, she sprang to her feet and glared down at him with cold contempt. "So we're back to that, aren't we. I _thought_ that there was hope for us after all. If I was mistaken, you might as well tell me now. Strange how quickly you forgot your hope. I just hope not all your feelings are that fickle."

Valen blinked in surprise. He had underestimated how hurt she was, because that was the only reason that could explain her uncharacteristic snapping at him. "My feelings are not fickle, Chama. I've been… been battling and mistrusting myself for years. I've had to push everyone away for their own good. I've been constantly on guard against myself, and yet… yet I was not always successful. Can you blame me for fearing for the past to repeat itself? That doesn't mean that I have lost hope. It means I am vigilant now after what happened yesterday. It means I worry for you, and that I don't blame your father for sharing the same concern."

Sighing, she sat back down in his lap and leaned against his shoulder. "I'm sorry, Granduc. It's just that… that it's not easy for me… to love you. Sometimes… sometimes I'm still afraid. Sometimes I still feel like I'm not worthy of anyone's love. Father said things… things that awoke those doubts. It would just feel good, once in a while, if someone else than me showed trust in our relationship."

His throat tight, Valen pressed her harder against his chest and smoothed her hair. "I do trust in our love, Chama. It's myself that I doubt, sometimes… and maybe hearing of your father's concern was harder today, because of yesterday's events. My lady, when you appeared in my life I was merely struggling with the infernal part of me. All I was hoping for was humanity. And now, I have humanity and am free to strive for peace of mind, for freedom and for love. I don't only _hope_. I _have_ peace of mind, freedom and love, and I fight to keep it. My lady… please don't be angry with me?"

She pressed her face against his shoulder, her hair clinging to his slick skin. "Maybe I should have told Father that the Knower of Names declared you were my one true love. Maybe I should have pointed out that you are willing to die for me and that indeed you have. Twice. Maybe I should have explained that you are free of the taint."

"You didn't tell him?", Valen exclaimed with surprise. "I suppose you didn't tell him either that you could command me would you wish it?"

"Why should I have?", she snarled back. "Why can't he trust _my_ word that I love you? What would he need to hear it from a Knower? And I don't have to expose you for him to judge… I don't have to tell him everything that you mean to me if he won't even make the effort of getting to know you."

Amused now, Valen smiled. "Chama, what you expect from your father is an attitude that a friend full of willingness might adopt, but not a worried parent who hasn't seen you in decades. You have to understand your father. He loves you, and he's worried for you. The last time he's seen you, you were four decades-old; it must be difficult to think of you differently than his little child. As for me, well… you can't expect a father to be happy that his dear girl ended up with an unstable tiefling. He probably even had someone in mind for you," Valen added wryly, deciding it was time to lighten her mood, "a nice young, sweet elf, the son of one of his friends…"

She groaned and chuckled in spite of herself. "He doesn't know me then. I would scare off all the sweet elves he can come up with before introductions were even complete."

"That, or you'd accidentally kill them with a fireball in the middle of a skirmish."

"Right. Unfortunately, with your resistances and all, I couldn't mount an elaborate plot to simulate your accidental death."

Sharing a smile now, they remained embraced for a while. Then Chama pulled back a little to look up to him sheepishly. "I'm sorry I snapped at you. I needed your approval just now, but I forgot that you have a right to need encouragement too, sometimes."

"It's all right." He kissed her lightly. "I understand you… but you should make an effort to understand your father too."

"I didn't yell at him even if I really felt like it. Isn't that comprehensive enough?", she asked in a perfect pretence of innocence, batting her eyelashes at him.

He laughed. "No. You'll have to make a bigger compromise than that," he ordered sternly.

"Oh, all right. I just wish I could convince him as easily as you persuade me. But let's not speak about Father anymore, for now?"

She purred the last sentence in his ear and he chuckled, obeying her implicit invitation and letting his hands and mouth wander a bit. He was stealing more than a kiss and they were not even in Neverwinter yet; it seemed like a good omen.

It was not long before they were both breathless. For days, Valen had been daydreaming of what would have happened a certain morning at an inn in Waterdeep had her father not knocked so impatiently on her door, and so their embrace was quite a temptation. Cursing inwardly that it was always _his_ turn to be reasonable, he reluctantly pulled his ear out of the reach of her lips, trying to ignore both the shivers running down his neck and his imperious desire to undress her at least as much as he was undressed. She surrendered to his retreat, though with a regretful sigh.

"Will you help me bring back the wood?", he asked, gently pushing her off his lap.

"Of course, but I think I'll enjoy the show first. You still have a few logs to split."

He laughed and flexed his biceps teasingly before he turned back to his task, which gave her a perfect opportunity to hungrily eye his wide and muscular back. It was strangely fascinating to watch every single muscle stand out sharply each time he bended his strength to bring down the axe. Admiring him like this, she wondered where her fear of the first days in his company had gone. She was not complaining, but it was a bit strange how it had vanished. She wondered idly when it had gone away, and thinking back on it, it seemed that it had all disappeared when he had stood with her under the Valsharess' tower. The look in his eyes had been so intense. He had seemed so vulnerable then, despite the imposing physique and attire. That moment stood out for her as a symbol of the mortal man underneath the monstrously strong warrior. Maybe with this realization she had stopped fearing him. She remembered feeling awfully nervous or troubled in his presence afterwards, but never afraid.

Smiling a secret kind of smile, she ogled him the rest of the time as he split the logs, thinking to herself that the wounds of the past were healed, if she could watch him with that kind of sensual longing.

ooooo

With what he had overheard, Halikouelle embarrassedly avoided facing them when they came back from the bushes, each carrying an armful of split firewood. When night fell, he did not argue about the watch turns, and instead lay in his bedroll feigning sleep, thoughts swirling in his mind.

If he was completely honest, and his love for his daughter demanded him to be, he had to admit that Valen had been perfectly respectful of him despite the cold treatment he had been subjected to, and he had been particularly thoughtful of Chamae. Carrying the heaviest of her things, offering her a leg-up her horse, serving her both the first and last cups of tea… So Halikouelle was forced to admit that, aside from the tail and horns, Valen proved to be a good man... a man worthy of his daughter.

Besides, the sight of the man practicing with his flail each morning with mind-wreaking strength and speed lent weight to Chamae's incredible tale of Valen's battle prowess during their time in Hell. At first, it had seemed a little improbable that the warrior had been able to contribute much to his party's survival in the face of Chamae's amazing magic power. And a man that was willing to sacrifice himself to save another's life deserved some respect and recognition.

With a heart-wrenching resignation that made a big lump rise in his throat, Halikouelle decided that he had no reason to and, more importantly, no right to try and keep Valen away from his daughter. She was old enough to make her own mistakes, although if the ancient Baatorian's knowledge was any indication, having a relationship with Valen would not be one.

Suddenly, Halikouelle felt ashamed to have indeed needed to hear the words of the Knower of Names, and to have judged Valen on no other criteria than his infernal heritage. He wished he could have seen Valen's courage and strength on his own.

Sighing deeply, he let reverie claim him then, aware of the tiefling's ice-cold eyes watching over his sleep and Chamae's.

ooooo

Valen dreaded the inevitable moment when Haikouelle would take him aside to have a speech with him in his quality of Chama's father, moment that came right the next day. When they stopped for the night, Chama expressed her intention of bathing in the nearby stream and Valen worriedly looked about.

"Chama, wait. Let me find a spot where I can watch out for you without intruding upon you. This place is close to a main road, we cannot know what hides in the bushes."

"Don't worry, I'll Stoneskin if anything goes wrong and I'll scream."

"I'd prefer if you screamed first," Valen reminded. "I know you, once you start casting you won't wait a second to scream for me and you'll put yourself in foolish danger."

Winking, she waved him off and walked off into darkness. Sighing resignedly, Valen made his way to the edge of the campfire's light and turned his back to the stream, hoping to be close enough to hear any alarming sound.

And so Valen was left alone with Halikouelle.

When the aged elf cleared his throat, the universal signal of serious talk, Valen obediently, although with a heavy heart, lifted his head to look at him.

"My daughter never took gently to being told what to do," Haikouelle began.

The tiefling smiled fondly at that statement. "Yes, she is a strong-willed lady."

It was highly disturbing how very much in love this man looked, Haikouelle reflected. It would be harder to play the stern father under those circumstances.

"So I have little hope of her listening to what I have to say," the elf went on, "and I am then forced to speak with you."

Valen lifted an eyebrow.

"I wish the best for my daughter, you understand, and I would hate to see her coming to harm."

"I understand," the tiefling answered coolly. He deliberately let the silence stretch, refusing to repeat the mistake of guessing at what Halikouelle was about to say.

"I would like to know if she has any harm to fear coming from you."

"You don't have to worry. I would never hurt her," Valen stated very quietly and confidently.

"Yet you nearly did."

"But I did not, and I never will. Moreover, I will take great care never to repeat that particular mistake again."

The two men engaged in a staring match for a few seconds, but Halikouelle finally broke eye contact.

"Strangely enough, despite the demon in you, I believe you when you say you would not hurt her. Willingly at least." At Valen's indignant glare, he waved his hand. "I do not mean like during the attack. I meant… her feelings… her history. Did she tell you what happened to her to make her flee the elves?"

"She did," he replied evenly.

"And why do you think she told you?"

"Because I am her friend, she trusted me, and she wished to unburned herself of the weight of secret. I am not certain of the type of answer you expect."

"I expect to know that she was right to trust you with the knowledge. Do you love her?"

Valen considered Halikouelle warily, put off-balance by the sudden change of attitude of his beloved's father. He was not sure if it was a trap or an honest question, but decided that he would deal with any unpleasant comment Halikouelle could think of afterwards. "From the bottom of my heart right to the core of my soul," he answered honestly.

Haikouelle stared at him pointedly. "If ever you break her heart, you will get an arrow through the eye. Now, since we will be getting to my house soon, I might as well know now if I should offer you separate rooms and fake that I assume that it's only obvious and natural, or only one, and fake that I assume that it's only obvious and natural."

Valen cleared his throat. To his surprise, he was beginning to like this old man. "I think two rooms will do."

Haikouelle raised an eyebrow at Valen. "So I see you really know what has been done to her." His voice fell and was considerably sadder when he whispered, "Three centuries can't erase that, it seems."

"That's not true," Valen started to protest. Then he flushed a deep red. "Well… not exactly… that is…"

Haikouelle had blushed too, and both men awkwardly let the matter drop and rushed off to carry out menial tasks around camp.

ooooo

The truce between Halikouelle and Valen did not go unnoticed by Chama, and the rest of the way to the Seer's settlement was considerably lighter-hearted.

Even though they received a warm welcome, Chama felt the restlessness of travel on her shoulders, now that she had set herself a destination. She did not rush Valen's reunion with the Seer, but they remained only a few days. Long enough to bid farewell to the Seer, admire Imloth's seamless execution of his duties as the newest general, promise to correspond regularly with Nathyrra, and learn that Deekin had left with the surviving kobolds to the Spine of the World, where they dreamed of founding a mixed settlement with humans.

Soon they left the Seer's settlement and rode to Neverwinter. Chama wished to thank and apologize to Aarin Gend – Valen was rather intrigued to meet the man of Chult and hear the voice that had so inspired Chama. Also, Valen and Chama both hoped to find Aribeth and Somnus well, and to see how the half-elf was reclaiming her soul after her escape from Hell.


	41. Return to Neverwinter

Chapter XL. Return to Neverwinter

When Chama, Valen and Halikouelle reached Neverwinter, everyone in the city seemed to think that Aarin Gend was currently in Luskan spying for Lord Nasher. Knowing Aarin, Chama suspected that it was a ploy on the spymaster's part who either wished not to be disturbed or wanted one of his suspects' guard to go down a notch. One thing was certain, though; if he was in the city, he would hear about her arrival. She could only hope that he would have forgiven her enough to come speak with her.

Residing in the temple of Tyr being erected in the rebuilding Slums, Aribeth and Somnus were much easier to find than the spymaster. The district, including its temple, had been razed to the ground by Luskan's armies in the course of the war. Rag-tag huts sprouted everywhere, along with makeshift shelters built out of materials salvaged from the debris. Chama spent the afternoon discussing with the half-elf and planetar, listening as they outlined their plans for the temple in the coming months. They had much to do; they distributed untainted blessings and helped in more material aspects of life such as building the temple and organizing the distribution of food for peasants whose reserves for the winter had been burned down by Luskan's forces.

Their first night in Neverwinter, Chama sighed forlornly when she ended up alone in her room without even a chance to steal a kiss from Valen; her father had rigidly stood by the side of her door with a pointed glare at the tiefling until she gave up and went inside with just a "good night". It seemed Halikouelle had taken Valen's statement that "two rooms would do" to heart, and quite a bit more than the tiefling had intended at first.

A soft rapping on her windowsill distracted Chama from her spell study. She looked up distractedly but paid it absolutely no attention… until she heard a soft chuckle and was reminded that she should indeed be more careful. However, she stubbornly refused to lift her eyes from her book; after all, she would recognize that voice anywhere.

"Aarin, that's not very nice of you to sneak up on your friends like that. What if I had been taking a bath?"

Lifting her head at last and scanning the shadows in her room, she could not even spot him despite the fact that he had given away his position mere seconds earlier. From the side of the room opposite to where she searched for him, she heard his teasing voice, "I took great care to listen for any splashing noises before I climbed here, my dear friend. I would have come up the stairs and knocked, but once I caught a glimpse of the fierce warriors guarding your door, I decided to forego the risk of showing myself as a lone man going to your room at night."

Relaxed, he leant against the wall in a pose so much like a spymaster that Chama had to shake her head. He was exactly as she remembered him, his crispy black hair plaited down on his head, his dark leather armour over a worn red tunic, his twin scimitars belted at his hips.

"Oh, and how would you know all this? You dared to follow a friend? How rude."

"I only meant to know if and where you stayed for the night; if you had left the city I would have caught up to you and revealed myself. I wanted to speak with you, but I do not intend to contradict the widespread notion that I am currently in Luskan; trouble is brewing in Castle Never right now, and sometimes people get… less careful when unaware of how close I am to their schemes."

"And what fierce warriors were you speaking of earlier?"

"Well, I have little information besides my own observations. I have seen an elderly elf that seems to be missing his bow greatly, although there is one on his shoulder. The other warrior is a tiefling that made people move out of his way as though their lives depended on it, and he was very good at conveying the feeling that their lives _did_ depend on it. My spies could not tell me much of them besides their names and that you travelled with Valen for a time. I admit the whole thing is rather a mystery to me."

She lifted an eyebrow. "Oh, am I stretching your talents, Aarin?"

He laughed, a rich sound that warmed her heart; she had been unsure of the welcome she might receive, but if he laughed with her, it meant he did not hold too big of a grudge against her. It was good to have him treat her like a dear friend. It was good to _have_ a friend.

"If I _had _to hazard a guess, I would suppose that Valen Shadowbreath is smitten with you but currently refrains for a reason outside his control. As for Halikouelle Roscoffense, even his name was unheard of by my spies, so I would suppose he comes from some distance away from Neverwinter. I would say he is your father – you have the same eyes – and that he is the reason why Valen…"

Suddenly the door exploded in splinters! Chama startled, looking up indignantly from her books – indignantly, yes, not fearfully; after all, she knew perfectly well who had just broken down her door. Instantly, Aarin was nowhere to be seen, and Valen filled the doorway, eyes red, flail unhooked and tail twitching nervously.

"My lady? I heard a man's voice in your room. Are you all right?"

Lifting an eyebrow, she looked at her father squeezing a look in the doorway besides Valen's large shoulder. He looked equally worried.

"I am perfectly fine. Between the two of you, I doubt I could ever receive a man in my room in quiet."

Her father just had the time to frown in puzzlement before the innkeeper showed up and started yelling at them for ruining his door. After silencing him by doubling the three rooms' price, Chama ordered him to give her another room. Just across the hall, he opened a door to reveal one that was both readied and unoccupied. Fortunately, Chama had not had time to unpack her clothes yet, so moving rooms was a simple matter of grabbing her pack and her spellbook. However, the elf crossed the hall carefully slowly, mindful of Aarin who moved slowly under the cover of shadows.

"Did you manage to follow us, or are you stuck in the corridor cursing me under your breath?", she asked the empty air once she'd closed the door behind Valen, Halikouelle and herself.

"I am here. See, you are not straining my talents, my dear friend," Aarin all but purred as he appeared from the shadows next to her.

Halikouelle gasped and reflexively swung his bow from his shoulder, while Valen growled, "Who are you?"

Grinning, Chama gestured to the spymaster. "Aarin Gend, Neverwinter's master of spies, also a shadow dancer and a dear friend." She turned to her father and lover. "As for you, I'm afraid introductions are not really necessary."

Curiously watching Aarin, Valen hooked his flail afain. His voice truly was striking; it was low and rich, just a touch husky. Valen clearly remembered the woman he loved qualifying him as handsome. Now that he had the man under his eyes, he was forced to admit in all honesty that it was still under the truth. However, the pang of jealousy remained tiny; one night Chama had broken down in cries in Aarin's presence, but she had not told him what tormented her. She had accepted his comforting song, and kept her secret, until later she had chosen to reveal the darkness of her past to Valen.

"You dare to go into my daughter's room alone?", Halikouelle scoffed.

"I even climbed through the window," the spymaster confessed shamelessly.

His eyes bulging in indignant fury, Halikouelle suddenly started to cough, an unhealthy red cast appearing on his face. Valen could only grin while patting Halikouelle on the back hard enough to stagger him.

"Father, Aarin didn't simply come through the door because he's not supposed to be in the city at the moment."

Halikouelle sputtered a little, but remained otherwise silent.

"See, even my guess is right," Aarin pointed out to Chama.

"What guess?", she frowned.

"That he is your father."

She sighed with a smile. Aarin always knew more than he had a right to. After a curious inquiry by Valen about Aarin's knowledge of who they were, the four of them spoke for a while, discussing how things fared in Neverwinter, Chama's most recent adventures in Waterdeep, a bit of Valen's past as a weapon master in the Abyss, and of the unchanging peace of Halikouelle's elven village.

At length, Chama exploited a lull in the conversation and pushed Valen and Halikouelle outside of her room. While Valen left peacefully, Chama had to shoo her father away firmly, pretending not to hear his scandalized protests. When she managed to bolt the door closed, she sighed and rolled her eyes, wishing for a second that she had managed to pull that trick with Valen rather than Aarin.

"Aarin, I'm very glad to see you again," she said then.

He nodded with a smile. "So am I, my dear friend. I always hoped to hear of you again, although I did not expect it to be from such grand adventures as Undrentide or the rout of drow and Mephistopheles from Waterdeep."

She sat on her bed and gestured for him to sit next to her, which he did, in such a relaxed manner that she could not help but wonder how many women he had shared a bed with in his life. A most indiscrete and indelicate thing to wonder of a friend, she admonished herself.

"Aarin, I've been meaning to apologize to you for a long time."

He flashed her one of his devastating smiles of enticing white teeth and sparkling hazel eyes. "Do not apologize, Chama. You have changed much since last I saw you."

"I don't think that nullifies the need to apologize," she frowned.

Tentatively, he took her hand. "I have seen Aribeth since she returned," he told her.

"All right… now I don't follow you. What does that have to do with anything?"

"I went to apologize to her," he went on, "for not caring for her as I should have; she was my friend and I abandoned her to her nightmares of Morag. She smiled at me and said she forgave me, because I had my own concerns at the time. However, she also said that it warmed her heart to know I cared enough to be sorry for not helping her with her dreams." Aarin caught Chama's eyes. "I feel I have abandoned you too in a way, and I am the one who should apologize."

"What? But I…"

"Just listen to me. You have changed; you are more relaxed, you are no longer cold or strained. You are no longer distant, aloof and cruel. Somehow, you managed to reach out to the world and let it touch your heart. During the last days of your adventures in Neverwinter, Morag's yoke was heavy, and I had given up on you; I thought you were just some cruel woman. I was wrong; I should have seen that I was wrong, that you were just like everyone else. I should have reached out to you just like I should have to Aribeth. For that, Chama, I apologize."

She smiled and hugged him tight. He allowed his arms to circle her a brief moment.

"Aarin, I'm not worth your regrets or your apologies. I treated you very badly, and you did nothing to deserve it. I took my revenge on everything and everyone for things someone else had done to me. For that, I apologize to you. Also, you should not say that you did not reach out to me. You came to me that night after I escaped the Worldstone and you offered me a cup of tea. You took me to your house, you sang for me and you spoke with me until morning. And you sent me to Master Drogan." She took a breath, her eyes filled with tears. "Aarin, even if you had tried to reach out to me I couldn't have held on. Too many memories of my evil haunted Neverwinter, and I associated some things with you that would have kept me away from you. When you sent me to Drogan, you sent me to the one person in the world who could help me. You helped me more than you can ever know; I would never have known I could go to Drogan if it wasn't for you. Aarin, my dear friend, I have to thank you for my life."

She sniffed a bit, but since he had tears in his eyes as well, her behaviour did not embarrass her too much. Fumbling in her belt of spell components, she quickly found the amulet he had given her so long ago. In an accustomed gesture, she polished the stone gently with her thumb and the room lit with the pearly glow of the moonstone.

"When you gave it to me, you said that the shadows ahead might be too dark for me to find my way back. You don't know how right you were. You don't know how many times I used your amulet in Undermountain or in the Underdark, and sometimes even in Hilltop in my candle-lit room in Drogan's house. I was in darkness when you gave it to me. Now I think I have found my way back from the shadows. I think you could take your mother's amulet back… It served the purpose for which you had given it to me, and now I feel… I feel that, maybe, there is someone else dear to you that has shadows to walk?"

She eyed him pointedly and the spymaster found his emotionless façade creaking before her careful scrutiny.

"See, you should have your amulet back," she concluded with a grin, and buckled it on around his neck.

He smiled, surprisingly glad to have his mother's memento back; he had thought it would feel like a spurned and dishonoured gift if ever Chama gave the amulet back to him, but with her change of hearts and her kind words, she made it feel right. Full circle.

"Thank you, Chama. My mother would be glad to know that it helped you."

She smiled. "She would be proud of you too, I'm sure. What's her name?"

"Sealemin," he answered automatically, although he clearly recalled telling Chama his mother's name before, and the wizard had never, to his knowledge, forgotten something like this before.

Chama laughed. "I meant your someone-walking-the-shadows' name."

The elf, with darkvision, could guess a faint blush to Aarin's cheeks. "Her name is Keeree." After a long pause and another pointed stare, he elaborated, "She is one of my spies… a new recruit. A promising shadow dancer."

"You are the one teaching her?" He nodded wordlessly. "Any darkness lying ahead for her?"

His stare hardened. "Her father used to beat her. One of Luskan's High Captains… he fled his own city just before you set foot in Luskan. Keeree plans on becoming an operative there, since she knows the city, the docks and the pirates like the back of her hand."

There was an old tune in there, even though it was not sung out completely.

"Your heart tells you to send her on another mission," Chama surmised, "somewhere her face won't be so well known and where there'll be less danger of being discovered. On the other hand, your mind tells you that, aside from yourself, no one can do a better job in Luskan. Again, you choose duty over your feelings and you put her head in the lion's mouth."

Looking despondent, Aarin just sighed and nodded. It was her time to take his hand.

"You know, Aarin, even you can allow other concerns than work into your heart. You won't be human if you never allow your feelings any sway over you. Believe me, I speak from experience. Maybe you can reach some sort of compromise… Make her serve somewhere else a few years, so she gains experience and confidence, and let her face be forgotten a bit in Luskan, and then send her back there… no doubt she would quickly rebuild any network of contacts in that way."

Suddenly and unexpectedly, Aarin smiled. "As always Lord Nasher would be incensed to know how you advise me, Chama."

She laughed. "Don't listen to his every word, Aarin. He's got a right hand for a reason, you know! He needs someone to think on his own and point out if he makes mistakes."

"Perhaps, but you will forgive me if I do not tell him that so bluntly."

Chama smiled and suddenly remembered something. She fumbled in her many bags of holding.

"What are you searching for?", the spymaster asked, his insatiable curiosity aroused.

"Just wait, you'll see," she shot over her shoulder with a grin.

Then she extracted a sword from her pack. The scabbard was unadorned, a length of dark red leather tipped with horn, but the curved shape gave away the scimitar beneath.

"I found a few things in Hell that I thought worth keeping. The craziest thoughts have begun to make their way into my mind. Such as, maybe I'll have a child one day, and he might have different skills than Valen or me. So I kept a few weapons I found. I think there's a bow in there that would fit my father, but I didn't want him to risk sending an arrow through Valen's eye just yet, so I kept it hidden for the time being. And then there's this."

She extended the hilt to him. It was covered in steely wire to improve the grip, over a handle of copper dyed in the same deep red as the scabbard. The guard was also in copper, with a graceful but unadorned curve. A hum of power coursed up Aarin's arm when he took the hilt and pulled the blade free, a deceptively simple and unadorned curve. Only a faint blue hue to the steel betrayed its powerful enchantments.

"It is called Desert Wind. As legend has it, it's an artefact dating back to the genies that founded Calimshan. It's been touched up by Rizolvir, a drow master weapon smith of my acquaintance. There is the touch of fire to the blade if you wish it; you wake the desert spirit encased in the weapon with the power word 'Oustoulare'."

At the power word that Aarin repeated, red and yellow flame started coursing along the blade, searing with concealed heat. The spymaster gave a few experimental thrusts and suddenly found himself fencing friendlily with Chama, who had drawn a glowing red sword to answer to his attacks.

The powerful feel of magic coursing through him had struck Aarin speechless when he had first taken the scimitar out of its scabbard. However, the few thrusts had eased the tension.

"Thank you," he said, at a loss of what else he was supposed to say after receiving such a gift.

"It is my pleasure to give it to you."

"You appear tired from your journey, Chama. I will let you rest, lest your fierce guardians seek me out tomorrow to punish me for keeping you awake for so long."

She grinned. "Well, I'm sure you can avoid them masterfully; even my father's keen eyes cannot see you when you are covered in shadows."

He flashed her another one of his smiles, and it removed a great weight from her shoulders. She had not realized how much guilt she had carried over the way she had treated Aarin.

The spymaster came forward with the quiet assurance of a friend and hugged her.

"Will I see you again?", he asked when he let go.

She shrugged. "You never know. But I don't think so. I think… I think I'll end up in Sigil one day or another." She blushed; that statement was enough for Aarin to rightfully conclude that she was more than a little smitten with one tiefling.

"Well, send me letters if you ever stop your travels on Toril for long enough for correspondence to be possible."

"I promise that I will, if you will write back to me."

"Of course, Chama."

He sat on the windowsill and slipped his legs outside, effortlessly finding purchase on the wooden wall. He looked up a last time at Chama.

"I wish you well, Aarin," she whispered with a smile.

"And farewell to you, my dear friend."

Aarin, his new scimitar belted at his left hip, slipped through the window into the night beyond, and he melted out of sight before he even reached the ground. Chama smiled proudly at him going off into darkness, to some secret task; even her father's hunter eyes would not have managed to spot him. She shook her head as she closed the window. Surely Neverwinter itself would crumble to the ground if ever he got away from the city for more than a few months at a time.


	42. Of what can be called dancing

_I admit it, since NWN2 I've had a soft spot for rogues, particularly for shadow dancers. I mean, Hide in Plain Sight combined with Improved Evasion and a ludicrous DEX stat transform a rogue into a juggernaut of destruction capable of holding the front lines. I know, I know, shadow dancers are supposed to be a rare, why, practically legendary breed of rogues, and so on and so forth, and I just happen to picture two of them in the same story here, so that's probably anti-cannon or something. But hey, a shadow dancer's gotta have an apprentice or two or the breed dies, legendary or not. So there you have it. I also hope you're not tired of shadow dancers by the end of this chapter, 'cause I got a story or two in store with a shadow dancer protagonist…_

Chapter XLI. Of the many things that can be called dancing

The construction of the new temple of Tyr in the Beggars' Nest was well underway. Stone slabs had been cemented together to form a smooth floor, around which wooden walls had been erected already, even though the holes for the windows hung empty for the moment. Wooden dowels held the roof's beams into place, and grey-blue slate tiles already covered them in half. Despite the large crescent of moon, bright enough to cast shadows outside, darkness shrouded the interior of the temple. Carts filled with tiles, planks, beams and timber, discarded saws, hammers, planes and other tools littered every corner. A deep layer of slate-dust and wood splinters rested on the ground, keeping trace of innumerable feet trampling the center of the room and the way to the doors. A careless step would kick up a small cloud of dust.

The place provided a variety of private accesses that were difficult to monitor, was conveniently deserted at night, and possessed many shadows and hiding spots. All of which made for a perfect playground for an apprentice thief, so Aarin Gend had chosen it to train Keeree.

Beyond its immediate use as a training ground, the temple would be under Aribeth's responsibility once its construction was completed, so Aarin had struck an arrangement with her to use it as a base of sorts. He could reside there when he needed to entertain the illusion of his absence from the city, or he could lodge people in need of a safe shelter.

The spymaster was currently entering through one of the windows on the shadowed side, taking advantage of a lone cloud chasing briefly before the moon. He had warily watched around before slipping through, but had been unable to catch any glimpse nor any trace of Keeree's passage. Fierce pride rose in his heart; she was progressing so quickly that she now challenged him on his own ground. She could glide from shadow to shadow with the grace of an experienced thief, but she added her own feminine touch to it as well. Less and less often lately, Aarin could stand invisible and hidden, and manage to spot her. Then he would observe her as she moved slowly, carefully, with a measured economy of movement to each of her steps. Gifted with a short and slim stature, she hardly left any tracks at all, even without conscious effort.

So many things had been compared to a dance before; Aarin had never dared to voice his thoughts to her, that the way she moved compared to the most graceful choreography he had ever seen being delivered by ladies in their expensive gowns in Castle Never. Nevertheless, her beauty and grace when she moved in the shadows always reminded him of a dance; he had never seen anyone give more honour to the title of shadow dancer.

He brought his thoughts back to the present; allowing his pride that her passage was undetectable to distract him was a grave mistake. It should serve as a reminder that he must be even more careful not to let her surprise him.

His feet had just hit the ground soundlessly and without raising a cloud of dust when a gust of air feathered across his neck. Clinically his mind registered that her guesses of his moves gained in accuracy; she was starting to know him quite well. His old habit of loneliness in the shadows suddenly reared its ugly head and doused him with irrational fear. If anyone had a chance to assassinate him, it was this slip of a girl, this young woman whom he loved. Could he allow himself to love someone who was a match for him?

The thought flashed in his mind in an instant, but his fraction of a second of hesitation was not missed on Keeree's part. Her fake slash to his throat faltered in response.

Aarin harshly pulled himself together and ducked his head to the side as he spun, bringing his left hand as a fake dagger aiming for her chest. Her right hand blocked with lightning speed even as she expertly flipped her left hand to the side, grazing along his forehead over his left eye. If she had hit with a dagger, the gash would have bled down in his eyes in a most impairing manner. He jabbed his straight fingers into her left side, but she held herself far enough away to ensure he could inflict nothing more than a flesh wound.

Aarin assessed that the first round was even. He took a step back, but Keeree knew all too well that he had the advantage when stealth was involved, so she pressed her attack fiercely, driving him back with her superior speed. With naked hands like this, he could not keep up with her and in merely a minute she sidestepped his delaying guard and struck straight at his heart twice, once with each hand. Aarin smiled slightly and bowed, acknowledging defeat.

Not a cry, a grunt or a gasp had marked their fight, and they seamlessly melded back into the shadows. Aarin led her to a corner where crates full of slate made for good seats. They could speak with little fear of being overheard here, but nevertheless kept their voices low.

"Congratulations," Aarin began, "I could not find where you came in and you sidestepped my guard masterfully. Your training at arms shall have to be with my scimitars soon if I am to hold my ground against you."

Being a man and a pirate for all those years, Aarin had superior strength and the scimitars were still his weapons of choice. They afforded him a longer range and more serious wounds, while Keeree rather counted on the advantage of speed with daggers.

Keeree's fair skin betrayed her blush of pleasure. "Thank you, sir."

None of his operatives but Chama had ever been on a first name basis with him.

"You made one mistake, however, Keeree."

She frowned in thought as she surveyed in her mind's eye the earlier engagement.

"I slipped a little too far once, when I feigned towards your thigh, and I could have finished you earlier by slicing across your abdomen when I pushed you off-balance. Though it makes a lot more blood and the death would have taken more time, so I decided for a clean kill."

Aarin nodded. "That was a good choice and your slip was acceptable. I was referring to your hesitation at the beginning."

She paused thoughtfully. "Actually, with all due respect, sir, I'm not sure that was entirely a mistake."

He lifted an amused eyebrow. "How so?"

"Well, maybe it _was_ a mistake, after all," she reflected. "You told me on my first lesson that to dance with shadows you must trust your instincts and react instantly, rather than rely on your slower thoughts."

"That I did."

"Well, for a second there just before I touched you by the window, my guts told me something was wrong. You were… you were too _intense_. I don't have the words to describe it. For just a fleeting moment the idea of _danger_ filled my mind, as though you were about to turn and kill me if I tried to touch you." Then she lowered her eyes and blushed in earnest. "I'm sorry, sir, I know you would never do that. I just trusted my instincts over my head for a moment out of habit. I know you would never hurt me willingly."

Before he even knew he'd decided to begin following Chama's advice right then and there, Aarin was speaking. "Your instincts did not exactly betray you then, Keeree."

Tensing, she slowly turned towards him, a little like someone who suddenly realizes they are sitting next to a sleeping lion and are afraid to startle him awake with any sudden move.

"Sir?" Guardedly, she got to her feet and scanned the surrounding shadows for any sign of guards or assassins.

"When I slipped inside, I was very proud of you because your tracks were unidentifiable. I thought you were my best operative now. Then I felt you move right next to me and realized that you could predict my moves now. And I thought that if anyone could kill me, it would be you."

"Sir!", she stammered. "I would never…"

"I can't know that," he stated gently.

Suddenly her guts were telling her that he was not planning on killing her after all. Stomping her foot angrily, she glared at him with every ounce of her fury.

"Does that ridiculous accusation have anything to do with the fact that I am a turn-coat?", she demanded imperiously.

He was momentarily bewildered. "No, I meant…"

And he deserved to get cut off mid-sentence too. "Then why in the Abyss do you think I would try to kill you?"

"Please, Keeree, do not be angry. I did not mean to accuse you. I meant that, in general, we are unaware of people's motives, so anyone can be betrayed by anyone."

Still angry, she huffed, "What a ridiculous principle by which lead one's life. People don't spend their whole lives betraying each other!"

Aarin gazed at her with such sorrow-filled eyes that she was suddenly reminded that he was far older than her. "I experienced betrayal in the past, Keeree," he remarked.

She floundered, "I'm sorry, sir, just now I didn't think of Lady Aribeth."

He sighed. "I was not referring to Lady Aribeth; her motives were right before our eyes had we only looked, but that was not what I was getting at. Earlier, when you moved to strike at me, I thought that if anyone stood a chance of killing me, it was you, and that I have no way of knowing for sure that you would never betray me. But, in the end, the point is that I chose to trust you."

There was the slightest of hesitations. "Thank you, sir."

"Keeree, I'm not very good with people…"

"That's not true, sir! All your spies like to work for you. You always seem to know everyone and you guess what any target will do by what little information you managed to gather and because you're a good judge of character."

He smiled sadly. "Thank you, Keeree, but you've just confirmed what I meant. People address me as 'sir' and think of me as 'Neverwinter's spymaster', and I have no one to blame but myself… with my conviction that anyone might betray me and my habit of holding everyone at arms' length."

Keeree watched him silently, and Aarin knew it was unfair to let her struggle to find an answer.

"Keeree… would you do something for me?"

"Yes, sir?" her voice faltered on the last word, as though she dared not stray from protocol even though she suspected he disliked the title.

"Would you call me Aarin?"

A slow, happy smile blossomed on her lips. "Of course. Aarin."

"Thank you," he said quietly.

During the short following silence, Keeree had time to puzzle over what had drove him to such loneliness, and over what had triggered the change of mind.

"You seem in a strange mood tonight," she observed. "Does it have anything to do with the fact that you had to cancel yesterday's lesson on short notice?"

Aarin instantly noticed the change of registry and cursed himself for a fool. Had Keeree just been awaiting his permission to become closer than one of his operatives? How many people just waited on him like her?

"I guess so, although I am not aware why."

She laughed softly at the cryptic answer; he did not even seem to notice the mysteriousness of his words. "Do you wish to tell me what happened yesterday, or is it confidential and should I just stop pestering you with my questions?"

He answered with utmost serious. "If there are things I must keep secret for the sake of Neverwinter, I will tell you so. As for pestering me with questions, Lord Nasher once told me that if his instincts told him to hound me, then it was faultlessly worth doing so."

She chuckled. "All right. So what happened yesterday?"

"I went to see a dear friend. By chance I saw her arriving at the gates, and I knew she would not stay for long, so I went to see her yesterday night." He glanced at Keeree. "You probably have heard something of her. Her name is Chamaedaphne Indiwasi, but most here, at least for a while, considered her the Hero of Neverwinter."

Obvious surprise registered on Keeree's features. "She was in Neverwinter yesterday? How can have I missed such an important person being here? The whole city must have been in an uproar!"

The spymaster sighed regretfully as he slowly shook his head. "The plague swept the city a year and a half ago. People have short memories, even more so when the memories are sad or unpleasant; most of the people she saved wouldn't recognize her now."

"What business did she have in Neverwinter?", Keeree inquired.

"She wanted to check on Aribeth, whom she freed from the Hells… To think they would meet again beyond the veil… Chama also wanted to speak with me. We had a few scores to settle, so to speak."

Appraisingly, Keeree observed the spymaster. She had never asked his age, but he seemed about forty years-old. He was not old; he was still strong and lithe. His age had added enticing assurance to his charm, and he was a handsome and seductive man. Even though she had not missed any of this on their first meeting a few months back, she had not allowed herself to dwell on it too much. This man trained her, and he appeared to be the sort who kept that strictly professional. As a matter of fact, although she could quite well predict his battle moves and his responses to many professional situations, she knew preciously little about him as a man.

Now that she privately acknowledged that he was seductive, she wondered at the exact nature of his relationship with Chamaedaphne Indiwasi, considering they had scores to settle.

"We owed each other an apology," he carried on, "and thanks. Back when she resided in Neverwinter, I often thought we were not very good or very successful friends, but after talking to her yesterday night, I realized that we might both have learned more than we thought from each other."

Aarin fell silent, then, and Keeree thought maybe he needed some more prodding.

"How is she like?"

The ghost of a mirthless smile crossed Aarin's face. "You mean to ask if she is anything like what the rumours say about her," he corrected.

"Well, I did not mean to sound disrespectful, but everything that is said about her is very confusing. I tried asking a few of our own men, but they refused to discuss her."

"I understand them. Even I am reluctant to answer that question. Chama saved Neverwinter, there is no doubt to that. She secured the academy by herself, she found the cure's reagents, she conquered Helm's Hold, she found the location of the cult, she stormed Luskan and its Host Tower, she found the Words of Power, she dealt with Maugrim and Aribeth, and she killed Morag. She paid in blood for all of those deeds, and she never shied from it. Still, what Chama did for us, she did not do for our sake. She did it for gold and for lust of power. She revelled in battle and she loved the spoils of war. I think you could describe her as a mercenary."

Keeree nodded; that was what she had thought to herself after hearing all the tales. She was not shocked, but still disappointed. The heroes of old were not mercenaries; Lord Nasher had certainly not been one. Suddenly she wondered if Aarin had ever been a mercenary, and how such a dutiful man could have worked with and befriended someone like Chamaedaphne, however badly.

"But there was more to her than that," he went on. "When at first you met her, you thought nothing but her quest for magic spurred her on in life, but a strange quality hung about her and made you want to change that. I've seen people of all kinds fall to it; drunken 'tavern adventurers', clerics, motherly innkeepers, pirates of the Sandy Tavern, anyone, really, but no one ever succeeded. Some she sent away, others chose to keep their distances once they knew her better. After you took a measure of her desire for power, it was some time before you could feel the undercurrent of cruelty hidden under her ambition. And it was very long before you could see the strange pain that drove her onward.

"She was a complex person, and her time in Neverwinter changed her. I think we were truly friends on only one occasion. When she emerged from the Worldstone, she was shaken and she did not look like she could spend the night alone. I offered her a cup of tea and I brought her home." He did not stop to smile at Keeree's blush and the way she quickly averted her eyes. "I spoke with her until the wee hours of morning, when she finally collapsed into sleep on my couch; seriously she should not have lasted that long, exhausted as she was by her battles. When she woke the next morning, I packed her off with a caravan headed to Hilltop, and she became the apprentice of an old friend of mine, a dwarven mage named Drogan."

Despite the blush lingering on her cheeks, Keeree's voice and face were calm enough when she inquired, "You kept her awake all night _talking_ and you sent her away to a hole of a village the next morning, and that's when you were a true friend to her?"

"Well, true that we did not only talk; we did drink a few cups of tea and some singing was involved, but mostly, yes, it is as you said. I sent her to Drogan because I did not know what she needed, but I could sense it was not me. I trusted Drogan to be wise enough to help her. After seeing her again yesterday, I am quite sure he did."

Keeree suddenly smiled. "I'm glad then. I wouldn't have liked to stay with the idea of a distraught Hero of Neverwinter."

The spymaster laughed.

"Did she fare well since the events of Neverwinter?", the young shadow dancer asked further.

"It is hard to tell. She was so relaxed that I could hardly recognize her, so it seems that in a way, she has. Yet I could discern new scars on her, and she seemed terribly exhausted. I think she will fare better now that her trials are over; she obviously reached some inner peace, and she found someone."

The young woman grinned impishly. "Girls are always interested in gossip. Is she going to marry?"

"I am not sure, but she did find a man who loves her. Imagine my horror when he overheard us speaking in her room, surmised some man threatened her, and broke down the door to find me alone with her."

Keeree tried to keep a straight face – he had been facing death after all – but could not help falling into helpless laughter. "I imagine his surprise when you disappeared into shadows and sneaked on him."

"I would not count on my talents if pitched against a tiefling veteran of the Blood Wars."

"A tiefling?" She blinked a few times. "This Chamaedaphne seems to have quite an extraordinary history."

"I think she does. So that is what puts me in such a strange mood. Having her back made me realize that maybe I could take more chances at trusting people. It made me realize that I've made myself lonely."

She smiled at him, an encouraging smile. "I think that you're right, Aarin. You should take more chances at trusting people."

And he smiled back, and that night they trained a bit longer together, using their bare hands as fake daggers.


	43. Prodigal return

_Time passed so fast, it's hard to believe, but my stay in France is drawing to an end! Tomorrow I'll be taking the train and leaving the Gironde department for two weeks of vacation and visit through France. I'm going to Cadre Noir in Saumur (horseback riding, airs above the ground), to Mont St. Michel (Michael in English maybe? Arthurian legends AND birding delight at this time of year!), and finally to Paris (it would be a shame to go to France twice without visiting Versailles once)._

_So, I should be pretty busy in the next two weeks, and I'm not sure I'll always have internet access, so it might be some time before I post an update. However, just to keep you hooked until then… There's only one chapter and the epilogue after this! Stay tuned!_

Chapter XLII. Prodigal return

Once back on the road, Chama, Valen and Halikouelle made good progress. While Chama looked increasingly nervous as they neared Saarelmith, Halikouelle seemed more relieved and relaxed with each passing day. Unlike his daughter, he had not left his home for an adventuring life, and homesickness had dogged him every minute away from his beloved forest.

"We are only a short way," the older elf suddenly announced joyfully. "In less than a league we should meet Saarelmith's sentries."

A mix of evergreens and deciduous trees grew thick and high on each side of the road, and the dense underbrush of young saplings, bushes and thorny raspberry patches discouraged any foray into the mysterious depths of the elven forest. The air was cool and still between the trunks, but a gentle wind rustled the leaves overhead and the calming sound wafted down through the branches.

Time seemed more elusive in the muted forest, so Valen had lost track of the distance covered when Chama slowed then stopped her horse, soon imitated by her travelling companions. An enthusiastic smile on her lips, she pulled her horse close to Valen's huge steed and pointed over his shoulder with a finger. Doing his best to follow the direction she pointed, he squinted in the late afternoon light filtering through the leaves and needles.

"Look, high up there. See that dead trunk with still a bit of bark on it?", she inquired.

"Yes?"

"The bit of bark is not a bit of bark."

Instantly, Valen tensed and unhooked his flail, but Chama's chuckle indicated that it may not be bark, but it was not a threat either.

"It's a great horned owl," she told him laughingly.

The tiefling squinted with a vengeance through the dappled shadows and sunlight that hindered his sight.

"I'm sorry, Chama. As much as I'd like to see it, my eyes are not quite as sharp as yours."

Turning to her father, Chama threw him such a supplicant look that he actually shook his head as though to break free of a daze. Valen nearly smiled in sympathy; Chama rarely asked anything so trivial, so her look was all the more devastating when she used it, because it was all new and sparkling.

"Father?"

"Yes, Chamae?"

"Can you please make it come a little closer? Like all the animals of these woods, I'm sure it knows you and wouldn't mind… Pretty please?"

With a sigh at the waste of his skills, the ranger fished the lunch's leftovers in his saddlebag. Cutting a small piece of cooked hare, Halikouelle turned to the bird and beckoned with it. Ruffling its feathers in protest of being awoken in the middle of the afternoon, the owl nevertheless took off and silently glided through the air. Without even a whistle of its wings against the air, it landed on Halikouelle's outstretched wrist and started to tear at the proffered meat with its sharp beak.

Puzzling over what he could possibly have in common with the bird, Valen observed it carefully. He had never seen a great horned owl before, and he took in the erect tufts of feathers on each side of its head and its impressive size. For now, its sharp talons draped lazily over Halikouelle's archery wrist guard, and the soft feathers covering its legs partly hid the ferocious claws. The owl's yellow eyes were piercing and Valen could relate them to his own pale blue ones. Between strong tugs at the offered meat, the bird haughtily threw irritated looks at Chama and Valen, as though aware of why he'd been awoken at such an unpleasant hour.

"My lady, I do hope I did not remind you of a great horned owl because I scowled at you so venomously," Valen whispered in an unconscious effort not to bother the great owl further.

She chuckled. "No, it's the horns and the eyes. But, remember that the owl here was woken in the middle of its night, and you aren't always of the most pleasant disposition when you happens to have the middle watch."

Valen looked the intimidating big bird over again, taking in the soft-looking down of its stomach, the long spotted feathers of its wings, and its imperious yellow glare.

"Maybe we should give it some peace and quiet, now," Valen whispered. In an afterthought, he gave an attempt at honouring nature in the elven tradition. "Halikouelle? Can you thank it for coming so close and letting me admire it?"

Halikouelle nodded and softly murmured something in elvish to the great horned owl. The bird flapped its wings impatiently once, then took off and returned to its dead trunk. Valen turned to the ranger.

"Thank you for calling it for us. I'm glad I have finally seen that elusive bird."

"You were very lucky," the elf confirmed. "During the day, they are difficult to find because of their skill at hiding and, during the night, they are hard to discern in the darkness because of their colours."

With a last look at the once-more sleeping great horned owl, they silently resumed their advance towards Saarelmith. Soon, three elves dropped from the trees overhead, dressed in brown and green forest garb. Their wary stance dissolved into enthusiasm when their eyes slid from the tiefling to the two elves.

"Halikouelle! You've been gone for so long, we were all worried you'd never come back. We're so happy to see you!"

Joyfully, the three sentries pulled the old ranger down from his horse to shake his hand and slap him on the back. Chama and Valen dismounted in turn. Then the elves curiously turned to take in the wizard – two pairs of eyes widened in surprised recognition – and the tiefling.

"You see I have not come alone," Halikouelle said. "My daughter travels with me. Chamae, maybe you remember Carenel, Dunarien and Gendanien?"

She stepped forward with a timid smile. "Carenel, Dunarien, I remember you, we trained as rangers together. Gendanien, however? Maybe you were not yet training when I left?" As she said so, she extended her hand for a handshake.

Instead, the ranger turned her hand over in his and kissed it. "That must be the case, Chamaedaphne, I am a few decades younger than Carenel and Dunarien."

When the next one, whose name Valen could not determine was Carenel or Dunarien, kissed her hand for even longer, the tiefling decided that it was about time they remembered his presence. Keeping his face cautiously blank, he rolled his shoulders, straightened his back and puffed up his chest. At the creaks of his armour, the three sentries' looks swiftly went from Chama to him. Apparently, his mere presence sufficed to snap them back in their place, because the third one kissed Chama's hand only timidly before straightening.

"It's good to have you back, Chamae," the palest-haired guard said with a grin.

"It's good to be back, Carenel. I never thought you'd be a captain when I saw you again. Time hardly seems to have passed."

"It must have been dreadful to be out there all this time in human cities, with filthy dwarves all around…"

_And all those dreadful blood-thirsty tieflings, I bet_, Valen thought.

"Filth is not distributed in accordance with races," Chama answered coldly, then turned to the tiefling patiently waiting behind her. "I'd like you to meet Valen Shadowbreath, my adventuring companion of the last months."

"He is a warrior of great valour," Halikouelle suddenly chimed in. "On the road between Waterdeep and Neverwinter, we were ambushed by a large group of bandits and Valen fell fifteen of them himself."

Halikouelle's unexpected praised came as a pleasant surprise to Valen, and he smiled gratefully at the father of his beloved.

Somewhat haughtily, the three guards nodded, then Carenel stepped forward to shake Valen's hand. "As a captain of Saarelmith's guard, I extend our welcome to you, Valen Shadowbreath. As a guest to the elves, you will be treated respectfully, but please respect our customs and our love for all living creatures while within our borders."

Solemnly, Valen bowed. "I thank you for your welcome. I am not aware of all elven customs, but I will do my best not to show any disrespect."

And with that the three sentries stepped off the path and allowed them to pass.

***

The elven village was just that; a village. Small houses harmoniously built to meld against trees or rocks stood around a village square, where a clear pool and stream glittered besides a thick oak with an altar of stone leant against its trunk. A small temple, with its leaf-carved stones grown over by moss and vines, presided over the square. In order to following the natural disposition of the terrain, the houses were not built along straight streets, but rather formed a maze which Halikouelle, Chama and Valen slowly navigated to its center. At each window or doorstep they passed, incredulous eyes followed their advance and, by the time they reached the village square, no less than fifty people trailed them, eager for gossip, news and tales.

At the centre of the village, a tall female in an elaborate green dress left her devotion at the altar of the oak and walked over to Halikouelle with a welcoming smile. The elves immediately surrounded them to eavesdrop on the conversation, bright-eyed at seeing that Halikouelle was back with his daughter and eager to hear of his adventures. People more carefully showed curiosity towards Chama, but the older elves that remembered her and the circumstances in which she had left eventually began smiling at her and inquiring about her adventures when their questions did not appear to bring back hurtful memories. Children clung to their mothers' skirts or their fathers' legs, peeping around them to steal a glance at the wizard stranger and the big man with horns and tail.

So many people wanted to hear about them that they spent nearly two hours in the village square. Eventually Halikouelle pleaded they needed to put something in their empty stomachs and managed to extirpate them from the curiousness of the villagers. Halikouelle's neighbours invited the three of them for dinner as an apology for holding them so long. The family consisted of the mother and father, a grandmother and four youths (Valen would never have hazarded a guess at their age, but they looked like human teenagers to his eyes). Apparently Halikouelle counted the father as a friend and turned the questioning around, inquiring about any and all happenings within Saarelmith while he had been away.

More considerate than the press of people of the village square, the neighbours did not keep them late, knowing they must be weary from the long travel. The three travellers crossed the yard to Halikouelle's. His house blended against the foot of a small hill, the vines crawling over the rotund façade contributing to the seamless harmony.

The sight of her old room exactly as it had been when she had left it, untouched after all these years, deeply shocked Chama. For over thirty decades, she had lived in tents or inn rooms. The entirety of her worldly belongings held into three bags of holding: armour, weapons, spell components, flint and tinder, a bedroll, a tent, a pan and knife, a fishing pole, soap, a brush and pins for her hair.

And now, she found all those things that belonged to her; her bed with the coverlet her mother had embroidered while pregnant, the sparrow nest she had found on the ledge under her window and had recuperated once the fledglings had left, the painting by her childhood friend hanging on a wall, the various mementos from her forays into the forest, the beautiful pieces of wood and rock, patiently sculptured by nature, exposed on a shelf over her bed, her many books on another shelf in a corner of the room.

"Why… why did you keep it untouched, Father?", she breathed.

"At first, because I thought you would come back. And later… because there was no need to change it, and I did not have the heart to throw your things away."

Nodding, Chama silently walked from one object to the next, lightly brushing her fingers here and there through the thin layer of dust. Silently, Valen watched her reminisce about each object, as though to capture again a childhood she had done her best to wipe from her memory in time with the rest of her past.

Halikouelle offered to take Valen through a tour of the house to give Chama some privacy. It was a humble house, with a kitchen, no dining or living room, and three rooms. However, the bath room was a marvel; a small stream previously running on the hillside fell from the ceiling into a pool carved in the wooden floor, and a drainpipe holed through the exterior wall emptied the overflowing water outside in a gutter. Valen had never seen anything like it before, and Halikouelle had to explain that he must stand under the running water to wash. Once alone in the bath room, Valen gladly stepped out of his armour and clothes. The water was a bit brisk, but he felt revivified once clear of the dust and sweat and in a set of clean clothes.

Idly, the tiefling studied the carved wooden door handles in the kitchen while Halikouelle, then Chama went for a bath. He wondered if it was Halikouelle's work but did not dare inquire. He had hoped to kiss his beloved good night, but Halikouelle pointedly waited right besides Chama and Valen until she sighed and wished them both good night. Just to be sure, Halikouelle waited for half an hour after Chama and Valen had retired to their rooms.

Briefly, Chama considered sneaking out of her room to Valen's, but she was too tired and there would be time for that later. It was not as though she had not planned anything, after all.

***

The next night, the village threw a party in the central square to welcome back Halikouelle and Chamaedaphne. On one side of the square, elves had set a long table and tightly packed it with platters of food of all kinds. Opposite sprawled a dance floor at the foot of a small stage upon which sat a small orchestra, and merry dancing was already underway.

Valen had little clothes, but he had put on his cleanest linens and curiously speculated about what Chama would wear. However, before the woman could finish her complex feminine rituals and exited her room, a Halikouelle in high spirits had dragged Valen to the village square. He had happily explained to the tiefling that it was custom for the men to get to the party first, and drink and dance while waiting for the women to arrive. When they did, they were the ones to choose their partners, and after a first dance everyone settled for dinner. Later, once the food had been properly honoured, there would be more dancing.

Standing more than a head taller than most elves, Valen drew many glances. Some daring youths even came and asked him a few questions, and he did not mind answering because their curiosity was earnest and polite.

However, Valen conversed only distractedly, more preoccupied with the customs Halikouelle had told him about. It was all very embarrassing, but not knowing who else to ask, he finally gathered his courage and plunged ahead. "Halikouelle?"

"Yes, Valen?"

"Is the first dance anything I am susceptible to know?"

At the old ranger's sharp look, Valen felt himself blush. "Why? Do you think you are going to dance tonight?"

"I do not know, but I hope so. However, I would not like to make a fool of myself and to shame my partner because I do not know the steps."

Halikouelle kept his peace for a second, then gave up and laughed. Valen decided to take it as a good sign. "Usually, it's a four-steps court dance," the old elf finally provided. "Nothing too exotic, I believe?"

Valen breathed out a sigh of relief. "Not at all." He had learned with his mother a long time ago, but some parts he could only remember fuzzily. However, he knew enough not to turn himself into laughing stock for the four hundred elves that would attend the first dance.

Gradually, the music died down and a hush fell on the men as the first of the women appeared. They had gathered in the local temple in the course of the last hour while the men drank and danced. The first to appear was the priestess that had prayed at the oak's altar when Halikouelle had entered the village square. More women filed out the temple, all graceful and unearthly beautiful elves in their most intricate dresses, dressed in shades of green or brown in honour of the trees and the earth. But Valen only wanted to see one elf.

When she appeared, everyone turned to look at her, since she was the one expected guest.

He stared, like everyone else. She had changed so much in the little time they had travelled together. There was a physical change: she had put on some weight, growing from near skeletal to athletically slim. What was more striking, however, was the change in attitude. She would never have dared to wear her current dress the first days in Lith My'athar; in fact, Valen was surprised she wore it at all. A construction of green and black silk – his colours, he realized breathlessly – it had sleeves, a snug bodice and a flowing skirt. Cut low in front, it exposed a fair amount of chest and shoulder, as well as her delicate neck. She wore her hair looped away from her face and piled on top of her head before falling in smooth curls down to the middle of her back. The sight of the entire length of her creamy ears in full view sent his heart racing – certainly she had learned the meaning of the gesture in the Underdark, and she did it just for him.

But it was not only her choice of clothes either. It was the confidence with which she carried herself; the ease with which she inhabited her body; the charm she exuded in the slow swing of her hips.

At last, her perception of herself, shattered in her youth, was truly healed. She was beautiful and she knew it. Among the elves, she was no flawless beauty, Valen acknowledged, but it was irrelevant. She was graceful, and striking, and beautiful nevertheless; there was no need for perfection.

Her velvety black eyes looked only at him as she made her way to him through the crowd. He waited, breathlessly, until she stopped in front of him and her father. Curtsying to Halikouelle, she then turned back to Valen, extending a hand. He kissed it, allowing his lips to linger, before he guided her to the dance floor.

He pulled her in his arms, the dance began, and Valen fiercely focused on the steps. When he did not miss one for the first few minutes, he allowed himself to relax slightly.

"It appears you have decided you will survive dancing with me," Chama teased.

"I would rather say I will not shame you with my insufficient knowledge of court dances."

Perfectly in time, he let go of her waist and walked three steps forward with just her hand in his, before taking her in his arms again and twirling her around.

"Nonsense. You are doing well," Chama encouraged him.

With his concentration loosening slightly, he now noticed people whispering in the elven tongue around them.

"What are they saying?", he inquired in what he hoped was a low voice. Although you can never be sure with keen elven ears.

"That you're too big to be dancing this and should be tripping over your own feet any time now. Of course I know they're wrong, otherwise I would have asked my father to dance."

Valen smiled ruefully. "I am not such a keen dancer, my lady. It might be better if you danced with your father next, I know he would be glad to."

"Maybe I will, but I preferred to dance with you first, Granduc."

Looking each other in the eye, they danced on in silence and, for the lapse of a song, the rest of the world stopped to exist. It was just them and how they moved in time with the music. When the tune ended, Valen bowed and kissed Chama's hand again.

"Will you sit with me?", she asked.

"With pleasure, my lady."

Valen felt relieved to finally reach the long table and sit next to her. Her father settled down on her other side, and Carenel came to sit in front of them with his two ranger friends. Each time Chama looked away, the three rangers shot murderous glares at Valen, who did his best not to laugh to their faces. He had earned his place by Chama's side, even if those three elves did not know it, and they were not even competition enough to annoy him with their obvious manoeuvres. Chama however, true to herself, did her best to be civil and include them in the conversation.

One of the first questions was how an elf and a tiefling had met, and Chama explained why she had set down into Undermountain and how she ended up in the Underdark.

"The Underdark!", Carenel exclaimed. Hushed whispers travelled up and down the table at the name of the feared lair of the drow.

"Yes. It was rather intimidating at first, but I landed among followers of Eilistraee, so it was not as bad as it sounds."

Remembering how uncertain she had appeared that first night, Valen put a hand on her shoulder, as though his reassurance now could erase her fear of then. Feeling Halikouelle's eyes on him, though, he took his hand away as casually as he could and refilled her cup of wine.

Chama plunged into a description the Underdark, its caves, dust, secret passageways, and the Dark River. Valen was grateful that she only spoke of the Seer's benevolence, of Imloth's goodness of heart, and of the grandeur of the Underdark. No doubt these elves had never heard of the Underdark in anything but frightening tales, and he wished they would think of him or the Seer's followers in other terms. Chama described the underground maze in the voice of someone who, against all expectations, had loved it.

***

Dodging inquiries about the last thirty decades of her life started to tire Chama. Privately she decided she would give it another half hour for politeness sake for all the work everyone had pitched in, then she would say out loud she was tired, and Valen would escort her home. Her father would probably follow suit, but she decided that tonight, she would kiss her lover goodnight even if Halikouelle stood there watching them and snickering at them.

She granted her father one dance right away, and he let her go back to Valen with a sweet smile. Then she danced twice with Valen, and then she decided it would be all right to leave. She thanked the priestess and the women who had organized most of the party, then took Valen's arm and he guided her back to Halikouelle's house, the ranger close on their heels.

Halikouelle prepared some tea which they shared in the kitchen, exchanging their impressions about the night of revelry. Then Halikouelle cleared his throat, visibly coloured and made his way to the corridor leading to his room.

"Well, all this dancing has tired my old bones, and we are supposed to show Valen around tomorrow. I will retire now. Good night."

Valen and Chama stared in astonishment at her father's departing back. A few seconds passed in silence and Valen murmured jokingly, "Don't move. I'm sure it's a trap."

Chama collapsed into a fit of giggles. Taking his hand, she dragged him to his room and advanced on him until he backed into the smooth wood of his room's door. His eyes darkening by the second, he looked down at her.

"Would you like to kiss me goodnight?"

She already stood so close that he merely had to extend his arms to embrace her. He kissed her, one hand pressed to her lower back, and she melted in his arms. The knowledge that they were alone sent a heady rush of temptation through them both, and the kiss quickly turned passionate.

However, Halikouelle was just one door down, so Valen regretfully pulled away, rested his forehead against hers and tried to slow his own breathing. Shutting her eyes tightly, she pushed away from him. He felt a mix of relief and frustration that she was reasonable, because he was unsure of his resolve had she decided to tempt him further.

"Goodnight, my love," he murmured, before he slipped in his room and closed the door.

He let out a long, longing sigh, and he heard a similar sigh echo his own on the other side of the door. Falling face first onto his bed, Valen buried his face in his pillow in fear that elven keen ears might hear him moan helplessly. Then he smiled. True, being close to her but not being with her was torture, but it was exquisite torture.

***

The next day, Chama and Halikouelle showed Valen around the village and the surrounding forest. The seamless harmony between nature, construction, architecture and ornamentation deeply impressed Valen. After his appreciative comments on elven craftsmanship, Halikouelle spoke longingly of Suldanessellar's and Evereska's palaces, and Valen ached to see their beauty, somewhat like the elves instinctually desired to, he imagined.

"Father, why don't you just go and see?", Chama asked matter-of-factly.

The idea took the old ranger aback. "Leave Saarelmith? To go so far?"

"You've already been to Waterdeep. Suldanessellar isn't really much farther."

He considered a long moment. "I am not sure, Chamae. I am old and I dread the prospect of finding myself so far from home, even as I long for Suldanessellar's beauty. I think all those years away have changed you; you are not bonded to this forest as you once were. Travel is not a life fit for all elves, and I think I am not made for it."

"I am still bonded to the forest, but there are other things I long for too. I long for magical power; I long for a meaningful life; I long to leave my mark on the world. This lessens the need for the forest."

"I long for nothing more than being a ranger here; maybe that is why I cannot travel as easily as you. I never dreamed of a life outside this village."

Valen listed distractedly, drinking in the quiet of the forest. It was a haven of peace, all around and within too. At least once a day, he had a thought for the fact he was free of the demon – free to enjoy the simple joys of life like walking undisturbed in a quiet forest. So he basked in the tranquility and his own serenity, until at the end of the afternoon they reluctantly finished the hike and made their way back to Halikouelle's house.


	44. The Forest and the Sea

_I hadn't forgotten about this story, exactly, but I'll admit I might have pushed it back for later if a couple of reviews hadn't spurred me into action now._

_So I dedicate this extra-long chapter to make up for the extra-long wait to Ra'iira the Fiend and DevilAndGodAreRagingInsideMe, who decided me to make the time to review and upload this chapter. Thanks for sticking around!_

Chapter XLIII. The forest and the sea

Dinner was uneventful, the three of them exchanging impressions of their day visiting the village and a few recollections of Chama's childhood. Chama kissed Valen goodnight and quietly went to her room, letting her father know that she had not lingered in Valen's presence too long.

She busied herself studying and measuring spell components until it was quite late. Even though she did not feel sleepy, she blew off her candle, just in case her father woke and spied light filtering from under her door. Standing at the window in the darkness, she looked up at the stars and the shadow of clouds chasing across the moon's waning crescent. She idly brushed her hair, gathered it in a simple braid, and fussed with her sleeves and skirt. Impatiently, she watched the moon's rise and fall and waited until it set. In the deepest of the night, she strained her ears against the silence of the slumbering house and, when satisfied that everyone else was sound asleep, she slipped out of the window.

Balancing with rusty practice on the edge of the lower story's window, she inched sideways to the sill of Valen's window. She had done this countless times when she was a child, but it had been some time and her fingers and toes fumbled a little before they found their accustomed places. With the warm weather, Valen had left the glass open, and only a curtain obscured the window.

Careful not to startle the weapon master who no doubt slept with his flail within reach, Chama slowly pushed the curtain aside. After all, he might not have the reflexes of a drow assassin, but she had no doubt he could be dangerous if startled awake. She sat on the sill, and lightly tapped her feet on the floor.

Disturbed in his sleep, Valen sighed and turned on his side, but did not wake. Emboldened, she fully slipped inside and softly called his name. He rolled again and, out of reflex it seemed, he opened one eye and saw her standing there grinning at him. Blinking sleepily, he sat up and rubbed his eyes.

Hurriedly, she tiptoed across the small room and whispered, "Hush, or my father might hear us."

Valen pulled the sheets up to cover his chest in an attempt at modesty. "What are you doing here?", he murmured back.

"Taking you out for a stroll. There's one place of these forests I haven't shown you yet."

Valen rubbed his eyes. "In the middle of the night?"

"Come now, where did your sense of adventure go?", she goaded him.

More awake already, he grinned at that; he had the habit of the middle watch, after all. Without warning, he cupped the back of her head and kissed her. However, he pulled back with a grin when she tried to pry the sheets away.

"All right, let's go for a stroll. Just give me a second to put on some more clothes."

He hastily and silently pulled on pants, tunic and boots, and he slid a dagger in his belt for good measure. With whispered explanations, she showed him how to slip out and stand on the upper side of the lower story's windowsill, and from there slide down on the porch's roof and to the ground. While his performance did not rival that of his elven thief companion, Valen nevertheless possessed a respectable amount of finesse and gave a good execution of the acrobatics. Chama took his hand and dragged him through the winding back streets of Saarelmith, transformed into a veritable maze by the dark of night.

"You won't be able to sneak past the sentries," she whispered when they approached the village's edges. She leaned into a nearby rickety shed and handed Valen two empty buckets, which he took only out of reflex. "I will glide past them under the cover of shadows, but you'll have to give them some excuse to leave. Just tell them that I'm a tyrant and I sent you to fetch nightly spring water for my spell components. Tell them you'll have to let it stand under a birch for the rest of the night. If they ask if you know where you're going, tell them you're going to the brook just by the side of the trail further up. They'll let you go out and won't wonder why you're not coming back."

With a roguish smile, Valen quirked an eyebrow. "Have you been planning this for long, my love?"

"Pretty much since Neverwinter, when I realized my father would never leave us two seconds alone. Now come on!"

She pushed him ahead of her on the path while she rolled in her cloak behind. She seamlessly melded into the darkness and he carefully paced his walk so she could keep up with him.

Three shadows dropped nimbly from the trees, where they had been as invisible as Chama was, and lounged in relaxed stances on each side of the path. Valen did not know the three rangers personally, but he remembered seeing them at the revelry the day before.

"What are you doing outside at this hour with two empty buckets?", one of the sentries asked.

The tiefling feigned a weary sigh. "Chama needs spring water for her spell components."

"She needs it so urgently?", the guard asked, obviously holding back his laughter.

"It needs to be collected at night, just after the moon sets," Valen explained with just a bit of feigned displeasure, "and it has to stand under a birch tree for the rest of the night. Please, let me pass. If I wait much longer, the water will have been collected too late and I will have to come back tomorrow."

The three hunters let Valen pass with chuckles and words of commiseration. Not comfortable in the role of actor, Valen made good on his escape and let out a sigh of relief that Chama's scheme had worked. He walked on in silence and seemingly alone until he reached the stream Chama had told him about.

Suddenly she appeared right by his side, grinning widely. "Leave your buckets here, we'll collect them later. Come on! It's this way!"

With a smile at her youthful enthusiasm, he followed her, picking his way through the dark forest thanks to his piercing eyes. They made their way first across a patch of aged spruce, then through a dense undergrowth of fir, and finally through a mature forest of white birch. Chama did not speak, but Valen could easily sense her childlike exuberance at stealing away from her father's notice for a night's time. Seeing her so happy brought a reflexive smile to his lips.

At length Chama stopped and reached back to take Valen's hand and pull him beside her. They had reached her secret haven in the forest: it was a stand of grey pine, growing close together with flawlessly straight and slim trunks. Delicate white lichen covered the ground and crunched underfoot. Cautiously picking her way over faint trails not to mar the lichen's perfect sprawl any more than the forest's inhabitants already had, Chama guided Valen around the edge of the small stand. Some distance in front of them, a patch of bare golden sand rested at the foot of a pine. Small bushes of alder concealed it on two sides, creating a small private alcove.

Stepping carefully over the last stretches of lichen, Chama sat down on the patch of sand, with the comfortable and relaxed look of someone who is at home. Valen sat besides her, marvelling at the private corner of forest around them. The sand was cool and dry.

"I was not sure I would find it again," Chama admitted in a whisper, "or that it would be unchanged. It's been so long… I don't think grey pine live so long. It must be the children of the trees I used to know."

Valen smiled at her. "You used to come here as a child?"

She nodded, looking around her with a mixture of nostalgia and excitement. "Yes. It was my secret lair, when I wanted to escape my parents or the other children of the village."

Valen motioned for Chama to step back and he stretched his cape on the ground. When they sat back down, Valen pulled Chama tenderly against his side. The elf looked left and right, pawed around the base of the alder bushes, and suddenly she let out a triumphant exclamation.

"Look! It's still there!"

She took out a greyish white piece of bone that Valen could not quite place.

"It's a beaver's shoulder blade. The wild elves that live just east of here read the migration routes of beasts in the veins that appear when you burn them. I found this one by the edge of Lake Sandarion… We had gone there with the other hunter apprentices to test our swimming skill."

The tiefling listened silently, thoughts swirling lazily through his mind. He wondered if Lake Sandarion was as glorious a sight as the forests. He wished he knew how to swim. Chama carefully pawed through the alder some more, and finally extirpated a rotten piece of wood out of the sand.

"The rest of my little treasures seems to have disappeared. This is what's left of a goblet I kept here to gather blueberries."

Suddenly sheepish at her childlike display, she shot a shy look at Valen. However, he had not minded, and he lay down on the cape, looking up at the stars through the needles of the pines overcastting the sky.

"Tell me of Lake Sandarion," he asked, eager to hear more of her childhood; he felt like her tales might make him grasp a part of what it meant to be elven.

She lay back on the cape next to him, and naturally she settled in his arms.

"It is many leagues from here, but it is a beautiful lake. I don't think you'd enjoy the trip if I took you up there, assuming I could still find my way. It's a tenday's trek through the thickest of the spruce stands with their whipping branches, high up between two steep hills, and there's no trail leading there. The trek was as much a test as the swimming for us young hunters. Sandarion is shaped like a large kidney, about a league in the longest. At one end, there is a beach of pure sand in a cradled bay. Water there is warm to bathe in, and there are no leeches on the sand."

"Leeches?", Valen exclaimed, appalled.

"Don't grimace like that, big sissy," she teased. "Leeches keep to the edges and to the places where the bottom is in mud, not in sand. Besides, it doesn't even hurt if you get bitten."

"Vampires were enough, thank you very much," Valen muttered with distaste.

Chama smiled amusedly and went on. "So, I was speaking of the lake's beach. Near it, there is a little bay where a gorgeous mat of waterlilies grow, with irises on the shore. On the hillside on the opposite side of the lake, you can see spots of darker green of spruce and fir amidst the sea of soft green of birch and poplar. Every year, a pair of loons nests at Sandarion. Their beautiful love songs haunt the lake all summer long, and towards the fall, they are joined by their fledglings for their first song. At first, though, the young don't sing as beautifully as their parents, but with practice the voices become undistinguishable. In the lake live all sorts of fish, from tiny to almost as long as me."

"You're mocking me," Valen protested.

"No. I said 'almost'. They're not nearly as heavy, but they're nearly as long. Their body is square and thick with muscle, grey with brown spots. They have big teeth and foul tempers, and will attack anything that's red, even if it's just your toenail paint, if it's the right time of year, around Kythorn."

"They're stupid fish. Why do they attack toes?"

"It's the red they attack, not the toe; it's the colour of the inside of the males' mouths." Chama's cheeks coloured slightly in the moonlight, but she went on with her explanation. "They mate around Kythorn. The males are nearly driven insane with the need to reproduce, and they attack anything that remotely resembles an adversary."

Valen grinned with sudden humour and could not resist teasing timid Chama. "I see. Poor fish. Why do the females let them wait and torture them like this?"

"It is to ensure that only the strongest males receive their favours. The weaker fish get routed by the others' attacks or tire out before Kythorn arrives. Waiting until then, the females only get the strongest males, so their offspring will be as strong as their fathers and will survive."

Valen considered a long moment. "There is a strange wisdom to wildlife."

"There is another sort of fish, this one is shorter but fatter. Their back is green, specked with brown and black, and their stomachs are pink or red. They also have a brilliant white stripe at the edge of their fins, and when you're lucky enough to see them swim, you can spy a flash of white zigzagging away. And along with the loons you can hear another bird sing. In the mist of centuries, I had nearly forgotten then. They're so small you could hold them in the palm of your hand. When you look at them, all brown with their head striped with black and white, you could think they are small unremarkable birds, but they have a beautiful song and a voice powerful enough to be heard a league away. I don't know their name in common, but in elvish we call them _goaren bere'et_."

She whistled the song of the small unknown bird and Valen let the peaceful, seemingly nostalgic sound wash over him.

"Their song is almost as haunting as that of the loons, but they don't sing as often. I lived in human cities for so long; I nearly forgot about the forest, both from the passage of time and from the refusal to revisit what I had lost. The myriad of different trees, the concealing bushes, the enticing birds, the plentiful fish… the annoying flies…"

With a chuckle, she batted her hand at the annoying insect hissing near her ear. With a flourish of the hand, she cast a wind cantrip that shooed the mosquitoes away.

"I can see why you miss the forests," Valen whispered, kissing the top of her head.

"Missing the flies? Never."

Valen's chuckle rumbled in his chest against her ear. "I meant all the trees which names you know, and those birds which songs you memorized, and those mythic fish you have seen…"

She fell silent and the two of them just lay there for a while, Valen stroking her hair as he looked up at the sky above them. At some point, the mood shifted and he laughed.

"It's good to be out of your father's notice for a while."

Grinning, she turned in his arms to kiss him. An unseemly flash of thought, and Valen suddenly commiserated with the poor fish driven insane by desire in Kythorn. His love kissed him, pressed into him and caressed his chest. His own hands started to wander quite of their own volition and the treacherous voice of defeat whispered in his mind that they were alone and that they had waited quite long enough…

Suddenly pulling away, Valen gasped for air and forced his hands to stay wisely on her shoulders.

"Chama, wait… I think we need to talk."

Her quiet laughter sounded like it came right from her very kissable throat and he grasped her shoulders in sudden combat against insistent desire.

"I don't recall you having anything to discuss back in Waterdeep?" After a few seconds of silence on his part, however, she looked up at him seriously.

"True, but at the time, we had just battled the greatest foe, I dealt with the aftermath of being free of the demon, and I had slept with you in my arms. There is only so much temptation I can resist, my lady. Besides, it would be considerably more embarrassing if someone walked in on us than when someone knocked on your door."

"Have no fear, we will not be interrupted here. We're one league from the nearest sentry patrol path, and there are precautions I can take against any changes they might have made to the patrols in the last thirty decades."

Sitting up, she took a breath to steady herself, and started tracing magical glyphs in the air with her hands. Valen observed curiously as a summoning circle flashed into existence on the ground with a hell hound at its heart. He startled at the absence of the familiar crawl on his skin in the presence of one of the devilkin.

"Valen, here is Rubeus. Rubeus, Valen."

The hell hound sat and extended a paw forward, and the tiefling found himself shaking the other outsider's hand.

"You've never conjured him in my presence before," he observed.

"No… I haven't conjured him since Neverwinter. I wasn't ready to face him. I could have chosen to conjure another familiar, but it just wouldn't have felt right. I've spent too much time in Rubeus' company."

Easily the size of a large wolf, the hell hound approached his mistress with surprising meekness, his tail held low and yelping plaintively. Seemingly timid herself, Chama extended her arms slowly. It was all the encouragement the hell hound needed; he jumped happily, crashing in her chest paws first. She lost her balance, but the alder bushes conveniently caught her fall. Rubeus then proceeded to lick her face with his fiery breath while she giggled and tried to push him away, scratching him behind the ears all the while.

Valen watched in stunned surprise. He had led armies with beast masters and abyssal hounds, but he had never seen a hell hound act remotely like Rubeus. Of course, the abyssal houndmasters were unlikely to ever return their beasts' affection.

After a few seconds, the tiefling smiled and decided that action was warranted. He pulled the hell hound's collar back so Chama could properly get back on her feet. He had been expecting a growl, a warning snap of the jaws or even a bite, but Rubeus merely turned and tried to lick his hand with as much enthusiasm as he had Chama's face.

"Rubeus, quiet now."

Obediently, the hound flopped down and looked up at the elf expectantly, panting and swishing his tail. Kneeling, she circled his big muscular neck with her arms and hugged him. He let out a canine coo of delight and half stood up to press harder against her.

Valen smiled at the scene. The hell hound and Chama seemed to both have turned away from evil together, if Rubeus's show of affection meant anything. When the big dog licked Chama's cheek, Valen mock snarled, "I'm about to turn jealous, you know."

Immediately the hell hound jumped to him and stretched on hind legs to lick his cheek enthusiastically, before he started dancing from foot to foot, hesitating as to whom he should try to get a hug from.

"I wasn't meaning jealous of Chama. I meant jealous of you, Rubeus."

The big dog tilted his head, but then Chama moved to Valen and hugged him tightly. Jealousy evaporated from his mind.

It was a long minute before she pulled away. She turned to her dog and exchanged a long look with him. The hell hound's ears prickled forward and he set out of their small enclave of alder, his big paws surprisingly silent on the forest floor.

"And don't you go off chasing hares!", she called after him.

There was a canine sigh, and then silence again as the dog stalked away.

"He'll make sure no one comes this way without our notice. He'll come back and warn us if someone's coming closer."

Before sitting down again, Valen shook the sand that enthusiastic Rubeus had gotten everywhere out of his cape. Chama and Valen sat down together, his arm around her shoulders.

"So," she said, "what is it you wished to talk about?"

He took a breath. "Did you wish to spend the night here? …With me?"

"That was the plan… why else come up with that story about water standing under a birch for the night?"

"Chama… as much as I'd like to spend the night here with you… there might be consequences, and I don't want anything to happen that you could regret."

"It's hard to tell because I skipped a cycle in Hell, but I don't think there's much risk of me getting pregnant tonight, if that's what you're getting at."

Valen sighed. Faced with her careful calm, he found it unexpectedly hard to voice his concerns. "That's not all, my love. There is the… the _chance_," because he would not call it a 'risk', "there is the chance of us conceiving a child, but it is not my only concern. Chama, if it could endanger you to bear a child, I don't want to risk your life for the sake of pleasure. And even if it doesn't, I would only want a child for us if and when you are ready to be a mother again. You can have me wait for years like those poor fish in Lake Sandarion, until you're sure you have the strongest male, I don't care. I love you, Chama, and I would not want to chance you conceiving a child without knowing for sure that it does not endanger you and that you desire it too."

She averted her eyes briefly at the mention of Gaulthery, but suddenly turned back to him and threw her arms around his neck. "I'm so lucky to have you, my Valen." Then she sat back and stared in his eyes. "I don't know if it's dangerous for me to carry a child. Not even the priestesses know, so it seems you won't be getting any answer to that question."

He took her hand. "And you are willing to try? I'm not sure I wish to risk it."

She threw him a hungry, desperate look that told it all: he really thought they could live the remainder of their lives without ever making love? His visible gulp and darkening eyes were all the answer she needed.

Then, an abrupt change of topic, "I would like to see Sigil."

He could not help but grin happily. "You would?"

"Yes, but I have one condition, Granduc."

Valen quirked an eyebrow. "And what is it, my love?"

"If you wish to have children with me, it will have to be before we go to the City of Doors. I don't want to raise our children in Sigil."

He frowned. "It is not so bad a city. Why not?"

Her eyes turned soft. "Valen… you are a tiefling."

"Yes, but what does that…" And then he understood and he faltered.

"So any child of ours will bear a fraction of the demon blood and be a tiefling too. I don't want to see him wandering Sigil's streets every day, worrying because this is exactly how you were taken away to the Blood Wars. I don't want to risk our child ending up a battle slave."

"I understand," he said, and he drew her in his arms. "Please, believe me: wherever we are, I would lay down my life to protect you and our child. I would not let anything happen to either of you."

They lay down on Valen's cape, the sand shifting under them to give them a firm but comfortable bedding.

"Granduc… That is my only condition regarding children. I've been thinking about it ever since I dreamed of Gaulthery. I've been thinking that I would like to show all those things I have shown you today to a child, to hug a small child like my father used to hug me, to learn and see everything through new eyes, and to know everything else that my imagination cannot fathom right now about the reality of having a child. And I can't imagine having a child with anyone but you."

"I certainly hope so," he said gruffly.

"But there's one thing still that I feel we should discuss."

"Yes?"

"I'm not sure if any child of yours would not be born with the taint."

Valen sighed and considered for a long moment while she stroked his shoulder. "I know. He would be even less tanar'ri than me, though, and life for me was not so bad until I was taken by Grimash't. Do you think it is cruelty to give life to a creature that could spend his whole life in suffering?"

"Granduc, I spent nearly my whole life in suffering, and it had nothing to do with any wish or desire of my parents. I think that anyone has a potential for happiness and suffering… Even you are free of the demonic taint now. But, considering your past difficulties, could you manage to not see yourself in your child's struggles with the taint? …Could you love a child born with the taint?"

"Of course I would, even if it would break my heart every second to see him struggle with the demon the way I struggled with it for all those years."

"Then, my love, I think we have nothing further to discuss."

She gave him a serious look, trying to read in his eyes if he had any other doubts, because now was the time to speak of them.

"It seems impossible that it is finally the moment," he whispered. "Surely someone will suddenly interrupt us or something."

She laughed and slapped him playfully on the shoulder. And then he decided that it might be the good one this time, and that no one would interrupt them, and that finally he did not have to resist temptation anymore…

"Chama?", he asked, pulling his lips away from her neck.

"What?", she answered plaintively.

"Will you marry me? Because I'm not sure I'll survive long enough to see our children born if your father finds out that I have spoilt your honour."

"So you would bind your whole life to me, then?"

He sighed and kissed her tenderly. "I've been bound to you since you threw it in my face what made me tanar'ri."

She blushed. "I did apologize for that."

He chuckled. "You did, but when you said those things but still took me as a comrade-in-arms afterwards, it meant that you didn't care. It meant that you didn't accept me because you didn't know what you were getting into, but that you gave me a chance despite the fact that I'm a tiefling. I was bound to you then."

She gave him a little smile. "And I was bound to you when you scowled at me when I asked you to show me around Lith My'athar. It meant you didn't care one bit for the coldness that threatened to strangle me. It meant I could not keep my distance from you because you just wouldn't see that I was trying to keep one. I will marry you, Valen Shadowbreath."

He laughed and rolled her atop him, but then she grinned.

"Come to think of it, I have another condition to put to the fact that we might have children," she said.

"What is it?"

"He must bear his mother's name, the same as an elf. In my great generosity I would allow you to keep your own name, but our child must have my name."

He laughed at her imperious manner.

"I don't have much of a destiny to pass down the generations," he said, "so I agree to your condition, Lady Indiwasi."

And then he _really_ had nothing to consider but the next moment. The way she was sitting on his stomach, it was just perfect to undo her braid. Reaching up and pulling her hair free, he threaded his fingers through it. Whenever he saw her hair unbound, it reminded him of the first time he had kissed her. In Hell, he had buried his hand in her hair, and it had been wet, and felt wonderfully silken. It was dry, warm and glossy now, but still silken, and Valen threaded his hands through it lovingly.

***

When Valen began taking her hair down, it felt like wading down into water at sea, with waves rising higher and higher around her body until she was swept away by the tide.

It was a bit frightening, the feeling of loss of control, and she almost snapped it back in place in panic, trying to wade back out of the water. Without a word on her part, Valen just knew and understood. He slowed down for a while, smiled and smoothed her hair and told her he loved her.

She breathed out and let go of her control. The currents were a pleasant sensation; it was only abandoning herself to it that she feared. But it had been long enough, and she trusted Valen, so she let it go.

She gave him her love and trust. She surrendered her self-control and let go of her fear. She freed the desire and passion bottled up inside her during centuries of solitude. She gave herself to him, from the tip of her toes to the core of her soul.

But the exchange was far from one-way. She welcomed Valen's smiles and his silvery eyes. She admired his muscled body. She enjoyed his tenderness and took full advantage of his experience. She met his desire with matching passion.

And when at the end desire felt strangely like tension and impatience, she realized that what she had mistaken as a current earlier could be no more than a gentle wave lapping around her, because _now_ a powerful wave lifted her and made her lose her footing. And when release swept her away, she gasped from its delicious violence, and basked in it.

When reality returned, she washed ashore with the last wave before the tide receded. Valen held her in his arms like the most precious thing in the world, sheltering her from the coolness of the night with the warmth of his body. She would have traded the last moments and his abandoned weight on her for nothing in the world. Not even to erase her past.

Visibly shaking himself, Valen lifted himself on his elbows, although he kept his forearms under her shoulders and head, as though he would never let go. And she did not want him to.

When finally she mustered the energy to open her eyes, Valen was watching her with still silvery eyes. Mastery returned to her boneless limbs as she willed her hands up to caress his face. He kissed her gently and lightly.

"I love you," she whispered.

He took a shaking breath and hugged her. "I love you too."

She stroked his horns and played with his long hair. She so liked their colour and the way it made his eyes stand out. In a well-travelled path, now, she slid her hand across his broad shoulders.

"Thank you," she murmured.

Blushing brightly, he chuckled. "I believe this was a little too enjoyable to deserve thanks."

"Oh, but it does," she repeated brightly. He tightened his arms around her and kissed her forehead, wishing again that he could erase her past.

"You have," she said quietly.

"What?", he asked in confusion.

"I believe you have just erased my past."

He blinked a few times in surprise. She had read his thoughts. How could she read his thoughts?

"Just a few seconds ago I was thinking that I wouldn't trade your presence in my life for anything in the world. In all my long life, it's the first time I ever think I would rather keep my past. I think it more or less equates with you erasing it, my love."

He was still looking at her in stunned surprise, so she explained, "I'm an elf. I have the potential for a bond with my mate, to get inklings of your thoughts and feelings. However, since you are not an elf, the bond is incomplete. Shall we say we can keep some privacy?"

Rolling on his side, he pulled Chama against his chest and folded the edge of his cape back over her. Now that they were both cooling down, he could see goose bumps rising on her arms.

"That's amazing," he whispered wonderingly.

"I may have been right a moment ago, but I could easily make mistakes," she nuanced.

"How could you be wrong if you read my thoughts through the bond, incomplete as it is?"

"I'm not reading your thoughts, I just get impressions from you. I have to interpret them and I do so within the limits of my knowledge of your personality and my imagination."

"I don't understand." He frowned slightly, while absent-mindedly running his hand up and down her back below the cape. The simple tender gesture made her love him all the more, and she was suddenly grateful that, unlike what she had heard more than one woman complain about, he was not the kind of lover that fell straight asleep after love.

She tried to find a way to explain the bond in words that he could understand.

"The bond is a little like trying to guess what you cook if I was blind. If we were both elves, it would be like tasting what is being cooked. Because you are not elven, it is a little like if I could only smell what is being prepared. I can recognize many ingredients from the smell and so I can guess many recipes by the ingredients in it. It's easier to guess when it's food familiar to me, but I would have trouble to guess if it was a Kara-Turan preparing dinner. I know you quite well, so it's not like guessing the meal prepared by a Kara-Turan. After what I had just told you, and the wistful regret I felt in you regarding the past, it was easy to guess what you had been thinking. I think you will be able to get wisps of me too, even if you're not an elf."

"That is amazing," he repeated. "It never occurred to me that we might have the chance to have that kind of deep connection."

She smiled at him. "We shouldn't let Father know, though. Making love is the easiest way to establish a bond, so we would basically be admitting it to him."

"Since I value my life, I will not disclose it, my love," he said lightly.

A tinge of blue started to creep in the sky in the East; the sun would rise in about an hour.

"Much as I would like to fall asleep here with you," she sighed, "we should go now if we want to reach the village this morning."

He kissed her gently. "Then you must let me ask your father for you hand. Sleeping with you is a tender grace I have dearly missed since Waterdeep."

Indignant, she sat up and pulled the cape over her breasts. "I'm more than old enough to grant my own hand, thank you very much!"

He burst out laughing and kissed her pouting mouth. "Even if you weren't, I defy anyone to resist you when you've set your mind on something. So all we have to do is announce it to him soon?"

Mollified by his good will, she relented. "This very morning, when I finally get out of my room after much needed sleep."

She regretfully pushed the cape aside to dress and Valen imitated her. He was half-way through buttoning his shirt when he suddenly asked, "Does that mean you will wear a wedding dress?"

She let out a long sigh. "I don't know. Do I have to have one?"

He laughed. "Of course. I do wish to make every man jealous and every woman envious of the beautiful bride."

"And you? What will _you_ wear? I have the right to make women jealous too, you know."

He shrugged. "I don't know. I will have to have new clothes made, because I don't have anything fitting."

They were dressed then, and she fastened the clasp of his cloak back on his shoulder. She took his hand and they walked just like that back towards the stream where they had left the path.

Leaves rustled in the bushes by the side of the trail, and Valen crouched and pushed Chama behind him reflexively. He relaxed when Rubeus appeared out of the dense alder scrubs and nuzzled his leg before going to request a caress from Chama. However, the hell hound soon bounded off again, free now to run after some hare or other game.

When they reached the stream and the buckets, Valen filled them with water and Chama hid under her cape after sending Rubeus back to his outside plane. The two of them made their way back to the village in accomplice silence.


	45. Epilogue

_Phew! I finally did it! Final chapter! This monster of a fanfic is _done_! Big thanks to all the reviewers - you keep us going, we authors practically run on reviews for fuel. So big thanks, and this last chapter here is for you all._

Epilogue

Valen had already walked half the way to Chama's store before he remembered her message not to come get her at work that afternoon. According to the bird that perched on his shoulder to whisper in his ear, she had received word that her father would soon visit them, so she had closed the store for the afternoon to clean the house and prepare for his arrival.

The tiefling wondered idly, as he traced back his steps towards their house rather than her store, what his wife found to clean in their house.

They had bought it only three months ago, and it was still rather empty but for basic furniture. Chama always said with a smile that it was decorated in the "essentialist" style. Between his job as a guard captain and her relentless work at her magical fireworks new store, there had been precious little time to spare for the new house's decoration. Besides, after living as adventurers for years, they considered a rain-proof roof and a comfortable bed luxury enough.

They had stayed in Saarelmith for nearly eight months. Considering that they had done little more than sleep, eat, walk in the forest and teach Valen elvish, it seemed hard to believe that they had spent so much time in the elven village. Valen supposed that time flying by so quickly without his notice had something to do with the elves' magic, or maybe it just came from feeling at peace with himself, for the first time in his whole life.

They also had taken the time to get married while in Saarelmith. Valen still smiled each time he thought of Chama wearing her immaculate and magnificent wedding dress, with her dark chocolate hair striking under her veil and the velvety blackness of her eyes when he had lifted it to kiss her at the end.

Their time in Chama's village had been very agreeable, and they had needed their rest – Valen could still remember being dressed down by the priestesses when Chama had gone to them, complaining of feeling out of sorts. Of course, the healers had blamed everything on him, from three centuries of mercenary work to fighting their way through hell and having travelled all the way from Waterdeep in that state, no less. However, eight months were more than enough to recuperate, and eventually there came a time when both felt like they needed to get back out in the world, to do something meaningful of their life again. They had decided to settle in a medium-sized human city, where there was enough people to blend in as anonymously as an elf and a tiefling could, but not large enough that their reputation had already preceded them. Chama had also insisted for a human city, not desiring to feel the elves' judgement of her choice to marry outside the race, but still staying close enough to Saarelmith that she could visit her father often.

Valen and Chama had both felt what awaited all adventurers as they retired: a feeling of uselessness. Valen had asked if Chama would have preferred to hit the road again, but she had shaken her head. That life was behind her, but she still wanted to be useful.

Valen had easily recycled into being a captain of the guard. It was a natural job to take for a warrior such as him. Although he feared to voice his ambitions out loud to anyone but his beloved, he hoped he would one day be recruited as the weapon master by a wealthy, noble family. He would like to train young nobles into the use of weapons; it would be more gratifying than being a simple soldier, even if one in charge of combat lessons.

As for Chama, she had opened a store. Officially, she sold magical fireworks, which were a big hit and already famous all the way to Baldur's Gate, but her steadiest amount of income actually came from magical scrolls she scribed in-between fireworks clients and commissions. Her store also served as a magical junk room. She offered free services as scribe for the town's people an hour twice a tenday; she loaned her alchemy laboratory to mages without their own after she made them pass a test to make sure they would not make it explode; she served as an expert and councillor when matters of magic were involved with the city administration and court; and of course she prepared her now famous fireworks. She produced a series ranging from the most simple and affordable to the complicated and expansive, and she also did work on commission if the challenge and the pay were good enough.

After three months in their new posts, Valen and Chama both began to feel the claws of uselessness loosen their grip on them. Chama wrote to Aarin and sent him their new address. Valen did the same for the Seer and Nathyrra and told them to send for him if ever they needed help. Valen was starting to make friends of some guards – mainly the ones who did not drink much – and Chama was already an accomplice to her shop neighbour, a fat old lady who was a kind librarian.

They lived in a simple but well-built two-story house, with a basement where to store wine and vegetables, a façade with fresh paint, a sound roof, many windows, and it sat on a hill, so from their bedroom on the second floor, they could see the lights of the city at night. Valen could barely believe that this was his life now. He had come so far from the beast of the Abyss that sometimes he wondered if he could still be considered the same person.

He called to Chama when he came in, and proceeded to remove his helmet and armour and put them on the stand positioned right by the door for this purpose. The task occupied him for a few minutes, but he received no answer. Curious as to why Chama was not answering his call – she had to be home, because the door had been unlocked – he walked into the dining room just by the right of the entrance.

He stopped right there.

Chama grinned at him, obviously proud of his very stunned look. She had a new dress, and the rarity of such an event combined with the perfect fit made him overlook the rest of the room for the moment. The dark red velvet made her alabaster skin and dark hair stand out in stark relief. There were small red ribbons in her hair too, and she had painted her lips accordingly. He had crossed the room in three strides and was holding her in his arms before he even thought to move.

"You're beautiful in that dress," he whispered reverently.

She grinned all the more. "It took a great effort to arrange the _rest_ of this surprise. Please don't spoil it and take a look at the table?"

Still, he had to kiss her before tearing his eyes away. The table was set for two, on an immaculate tablecloth, and two glasses waited before the bottle of about the best wine to be found in the city.

"Chama… Why all this?"

"You're pleased, I hope?", she asked mockingly.

He laughed. "Of course, but why?"

"I decided this would be the day we celebrate your birthday." She sighed in an aggravated manner at his blank stare. "Ah, _men_. He doesn't even realize it's a year he's free of the demon."

Valen stopped breathing for a while. A year since he was free. A year since they had defeated Mephistopheles. Tonight, in the streets of Waterdeep, people would celebrate the holiday they had decided to name in Chama's honour and rejoice in their freedom from the devil.

"I hadn't realized," he breathed.

She snorted. "Of course not. Men. Now, won't you go take a bath and change so you're presentable for dinner?"

Valen obliged with a smile. Once he was out of his bath and dry, he searched through his clothes, wondering if he had anything that could compare to her new dress. He finally settled for his black and green outfit he had worn at their wedding. He never wore it because it always seemed too elaborate, but now seemed like a perfect occasion, and he knew Chama liked the way it settled across his shoulders and the way it was cinched at the waist.

Chama was serving the wine when he came downstairs. She tilted her head to look at him appreciatively and smiled. He took the offered glass of wine, careful to touch her fingers lingeringly.

"To freedom," she said as she lifted her glass.

"To freedom," he repeated as he clinked his glass with hers.

Their only servant, whose job was usually to keep the house clean, cook and help Chama when she went to the market, had turned into a waitress for the time of a night. She brought them the soup, which was an elven recipe Valen was now familiar with, and took away the bowls once they were done. She ensured the bread was always abundant. She came back from the kitchen with the main course, roasted duck with wild rice, onions and wax beans. Chama shared his liking for good food, but his dislike for lengthy meals of five course.

When he offered to refill her glass of wine, she declined with a smile.

The servant made the empty platters disappear and came back, to Valen's amusement and laughter, with a cake.

It was a birthday cake, small and round, with a choclatl topping – he was already salivating just imagining the taste – and of course, on top of it stood one of Chama's fireworks. A long and thin stick embedded in the centre of the cake, it gave off brilliant green and black sparks. He gaped at the firework, but had only a few seconds to admire it as it died away.

Valen laughed again. "I thought the tradition was to put my age on it?"

"You don't even know it yourself!" she protested.

He lifted his hands in surrender and cut the cake. Their servant disappeared for, Valen guessed, the last time of the evening.

The taste of choclatl was a true luxury. As delicious as it was, it was expensive and rare, and both of them savoured each bite of their piece of cake with their eyes closed.

When regretfully the last crumb of dessert had disappeared, Valen grinned at Chama.

"Is it time for presents now?", he asked with perfect childlike enthusiasm.

She smiled and obediently went to the living room to retrieve a small paper-wrapped box. Valen shook it, but it produced no sound. He looked up suspiciously at Chama, but when no hint was forthcoming, he tore at the paper. Inside, he found a small piece of the intricate work of silversmithing he immediately identified as drow craftsmanship. A bit more curious examination revealed it to be a cloak clasp, depicting Eilistraee's moon in a lattice of flimsy clouds and sparkling pale blue stars.

"Do you like it?" Chama asked hesitantly. "I thought you might like something that reminded you of the Underdark and the Seer…"

"It's beautiful," he breathed, turning it over in his hands. "And I count myself a follower of Lady Eilistraee, even despite my planewalker scepticism. Thank you, my love. I'll think of you every morning when I put my cloak on."

He smiled and kissed her. This was very much like her; something elegant and meaningful that he would not only wear, but _like_ to wear.

And then, for the first time, he felt something from her through the bond. He paused, taking a moment to wonder what caused that strange flutter of trepidation in the pit of his stomach. Suddenly, it dawned on him that he finally perceived some of her feelings, and he turned to her in alarm.

"Chama! What's wrong?"

She smiled reassuringly, although still a bit nervously. "Nothing's wrong," she replied calmly. Taking his hand, she guided him to the living room. She sat him in the couch, smiling at his concerned frown, and settled next to him.

"Well, I have one last surprise for you tonight." She paused, twisting her hands nervously, and he waited, perched at the edge of the couch. "Valen, I'm pregnant."

One second of shock, quickly drowned in sweeping joy, washed away by anxiousness. Valen grinned and started to throw his arms around her, but then he stopped short. "Is everything… are _you_ alright?"

She nodded. "You're always leaving very early, so you wouldn't know, but I've been feeling a bit sick in the mornings. Nothing too serious. And I've been feeling tired lastly. The messenger… I sent it to you when I went to see the healer this afternoon."

"The healer!", he exclaimed, his eyes flashing to grey, worry clawing at his insides. "Why?"

She scowled at him. "I told you nothing's wrong, there's no need to panic like that. I felt a little weak at lunch, and I fainted when I tried to get up. I went to the temple to make sure it wasn't anything serious. The priestess took a good look at me and told me everything is alright. Reassured, now?"

"No," he declared sternly. "You cannot work alone now. Who knows what could happen to you if you fainted alone while there's one of your magical concoctions on the burner?"

She sighed. "I know. I've been looking for an apprentice for the last months, and I think I will accept the last who asked."

"The farmer girl?"

"Yes. She already knows how to read, which tells something of her determination in learning, and being her family's eldest daughter, I know she has the habit of responsibilities. Besides, she's helped her pregnant mother many times. I think I could convince her to help her pregnant mistress for now."

"I am sure she would be delighted to have a chance to learn magic, my love, but isn't it a maid you would need?"

"If the girl doesn't want to become my apprentice or to check on me, then I will hire a maid. There. Are you satisfied?"

He smiled and kissed her lightly. "No, my love. You know how I have your safety in my concerns. You understand that you will have to work lighter hours, to rest and take care of yourself?"

She sighed, aggravated. "I know that, Granduc. I was willing to stand through everything on my own while I adventured, but this is different. I intend to carry our child to term. Besides, I've kept the bed before, it's not like I don't have the habit to slow down. I only hope it won't come to that." She gave him a sidelong glance, but did not say anymore. Again he felt a little of her feelings through the bond and, combined with the look on her face, he knew what she thought.

"Of course, my love, I will also take lighter duty to spend more time with you, especially if you have to keep to the house more. The general is a grandfather, I'm sure he'll understand."

She smiled at that. He looked at her, wondering at the mystery and marvel of creation. It was hard to imagine that a new life was growing inside of Chama now.

"How long have you known without telling me?", he asked in an accusatory manner.

"I wasn't really sure until today. I've suspected for the past tenday."

He took both her hands and looked at her in the eye. "I am so glad that we are to have a child together, my love."

She smiled. "So am I. Imagine our surprise if the Seer would have told us that when I first arrived in the Underdark."

They both laughed; they had changed since that time, and the world all around had changed too. More than anything, their life was about to change dramatically to accommodate the newest addition to their family.

"Are you allowed to drink wine while you're pregnant?", Valen asked as it occurred to him.

"Yes, but not much."

He smiled. "Good girl. Are you allowed to ride a horse?"

"_Allowed_? There's no one to forbid me to do anything!"

"What I mean to ask is whether the priestesses think it is a good idea for you to ride a horse."

"I did not inquire."

"Probably not, then," he concluded with a wink. "Are you sure it would not be harmful to our baby to be exposed to all your spell components?"

"Valen, I have manipulated those reagents for almost four centuries. If there was any ill effect to be had, I would have discovered it by now."

"Are you sure that you shouldn't take a carriage to go to your shop? It's a fair distance from here…"

"Valen," she said in a warning tone.

He grinned. "You should stop practicing with summoned creatures, that's for sure. Much too dangerous."

"Valen!"

Chama watched her husband laugh at her openly, grinning as he drew a list of forbidden things. She trusted him to drag it forever. _By Mystra, this pregnancy is going to be longer than expected._ But just then, she smiled, hoping that her pregnancy and all of her life would be longer than expected and that Valen would always be there to love her, take care of her and worry for her.

"And have you ever wondered if high-level spells could have a stressful influence on your baby? I'm sure it's not good for him to have all that magic pouring in and out of…"

The only efficient way she knew of to silence him proved successful. She put her arms around his neck and kissed him straight over the word he was trying to say. At first he wiggled and tried to speak around her lips pressed over his mouth, but quickly he melted and pulled her against him.

She would have to repeat that action many times in the following days, she knew. Valen would not stop worrying all of a sudden, as if by magic. Inwardly she smiled. She knew more unpleasant ways to answer to someone's irrational worries.


End file.
